OFFICE DRAMA APOCALYPSE — AND THE MEMO THAT BLEW IT ALL OPEN: WACKY BENNY BROADCAST #6

OFFICE DRAMA APOCALYPSE — AND THE MEMO THAT BLEW IT ALL OPEN: WACKY BENNY BROADCAST #6

 

What you’re about to read is pure satire. The media’s a circus. These are the clowns.

 

(Intro music: slamming filing cabinets, dramatic gasp, low-budget thunderclap)

 

Benny here, broadcasting live from a suspiciously dusty janitor’s closet beneath Studio B—where the only thing louder than the HVAC is the OFFICE DRAMA.

You think your workplace is dramatic? Try ours—where the coffee’s cold, the printer’s jammed, and apparently, truth is now considered optional.

 

That’s right, my friend. We have a memo.

 

A real one.

 

Found it printed out and shoved behind the microwave—right between a bag of emergency marshmallows and what I hope was a science experiment gone wrong.

 

Let me read you just one line—just one:

 

> “We are no longer journalists dabbling in drama to uncover the truth. We are now dramatists dabbling in truth to sell the drama.”

I nearly choked on my expired cheese stick. If this isn’t the most office drama sentence ever written, I don’t know what is.

 

BREAKING IT DOWN (WITH NO CHILL WHATSOEVER)

 

This wasn’t some sarcastic Slack joke.

 

This was an internal memo.

 

Real paper. Corporate font.

 

Signed by something called “The Vision Alignment Team”—formerly known as The Editorial Board.

 

(Translation: they changed the name so we’d stop asking questions.)

 

Let’s be clear: this is a declaration of theatrical war.

 

Truth is now seasoning. Entertainment is the entrée. And we’re all just characters in someone else’s spreadsheet of emotional click metrics.

 

And you wonder why the office drama is so thick you could spread it on toast.

 

EVIDENCE OF A CULTURE SHIFT (AND MAYBE A HOSTILE TAKEOVER)

 

Jack has started referring to himself as “a narrative disruptor.”

 

Gracie was seen reading old soap opera scripts—for research, she claims.

 

Rex asked if astrology could help with “audience engagement targeting.”

 

Max wore a fake mustache into a budget meeting. No one questioned it.

 

I’m telling you, this memo didn’t just change policy. It weaponized office drama as a business model.

 

MY RESPONSE? UNHINGED, AS IT SHOULD BE.

 

I once ran a fantasy football league with two guys named Fumbles and Scooter. And even they had more editorial oversight than what this memo is suggesting.

 

What’s next?

 

> “Tonight on Informer.Digital: Gracie fakes a power outage to get the ratings spike, while Polly accuses Aurora of leaking spoilers about Rex’s secret past life as a lipstick tester.”

 

Correction!—I’m now being told by my top-secret source deep within The Youth of America that yes, in fact… that would absolutely slap.

 

CLOSING STATEMENT FROM THE CLOSET OF TRUTH

 

So here we are: swimming in suspicion, chewing on chaos, and just trying to find one moment of quiet to eat our lunch without someone asking, “Are you part of the Vision Alignment Team?”

I’m not saying this memo proves there’s a hostile takeover in the works…

I’m screaming it from the ceiling tiles.

 

This is Wacky Benny, reminding you: in a world where office drama is now corporate policy, paranoia isn’t a flaw. It’s best practice.

 

Stay skeptical. Stay weird. And if you find any other memos shoved into light fixtures, slide them under my door. Preferably with donuts.