Do Not Disturb Me During My Fucking Lunch

No matter how good or bad this lunch is, do not fucking disturb me during it.


Yes, I understand that you have a pressing matter that needs my attention – but I’m eating my fucking lunch.


That’s correct, it is a fucking lunch. Normally, I’m just eating lunch, but this is different.


I really needed this fucking lunch to catch a breather. Not only that, I’m starving from sitting in that meeting with you for five hours. Plus, it’s Taco Tuesday.


Put all those points together and you get a Fucking Lunch.


And you’re trying to disturb it.


Wait – you can’t proceed without my help? That changes everything. Here’s my advice – take a Fucking Lunch. By the time you’re done with your Fucking Lunch, I will be done with mine and we can regroup and pool our action items to develop the project by the end of the day.


Or you could just Fucking Go Away.

Normally, I wouldn’t tell you to Fucking Go Away, but you’ve been here at my desk far too long and I have not sunk tooth one into my tacos. That spells Fucking Go Away.


So, it’s your choice, you can take a Fucking Lunch or Fucking Go Away.


OK. I read you, you are choosing to pick Fucking Stick Around Awhile Longer and hope that I give up on my Fucking Lunch before you Fucking Go Away.


Well played.


However, I have an ace up my sleeve – I’m going to the Men’s Room to eat my Fucking Lunch so you can’t bother me, seeing as you’re a woman. You can’t follow me there.


Much better.


Please don’t rattle the door of this stall. I am in here eating my Fucking Lunch.