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  • Susan & Oishi: The Signal Co. – Episode 3 – One Donut, One Memo, One Very Nervous Intern

    Narrator:
    Oishi (as if there’s anyone else classy enough for this role)

    As usual, Susan was at work — emotionally caffeinated, philosophically unprepared — and last night she dumped an entire story on me. I must now share it with you, dear reader, so I don’t suffer alone in silence.

    It was Friday — the world’s emotional support day. Busy, but chill.
    The boss lady, Cassandra, had just called in a food order for the staff. She’s not always in the office, but she shows love the best way she knows how: carbs.

    Now Cassandra is so poised, even Jezzie Bell and Dinah get insecure just by breathing in her cologne mist. She walks by, and suddenly everyone’s fixing their posture and pretending their spreadsheets aren’t fanfiction.

    At The SIGNAL Co., gossip is a language. A lifestyle. Possibly an inherited condition.
    It was barely 8:00 AM when Yohanes crashed into the department like a news anchor possessed, shouting,

    “MAKE WAY! I am reporting live from Rome — I have pope-level information.”

    Susan, mid-donut.
    Brenda, the only one actually working, half-listening.
    Yohanes?
    Fully seated on Susan’s desk, wearing the energy of a caffeinated pigeon.

    “There’s a reshuffle coming! Someone’s getting transferred!”
    Gasp — Susan almost drops her donut.
    Gasp — Yohanes inhales like he saw his own funeral.
    Gasp — Brenda doesn’t gasp. She fact-checks.

    And then… Dinah.

    Lurking. Listening. Lurking again.

    She swoops in with that “just sharing, not saying” energy and drops this:

    “I heard it’s Pete from Accounting. Apparently he messed up the company taxes.”

    (No source. No logic. Just Dinah.)

    Let the record show: Pete didn’t mess anything up. He asked Dinah for her tax computations, and she didn’t submit them. So now she’s blaming him for the delay. Classic.

    Susan nearly faints. Yohanes looks ready to call CNN.
    Brenda, still grounded, says:

    “Pete is the spreadsheet. He once calculated his way out of a traffic ticket.”

    Dinah shrugs, throws her hands in the air and goes,

    “Well… maybe he’s getting old. Just saying.”

    Meanwhile, Jasper the intern approaches to give Susan her coffee.
    Unfortunately, Dinah’s hand is involved. A dramatic wrist flourish sends the coffee flying — all over Susan.

    And Dinah?

    “Ugh. Stupid intern. Why didn’t you walk around me?”

    Jasper is mortified. Susan is sticky.
    And Ishmael, the janitor, glides in like a mop-wielding monk.

    “Ma’am,” he says gently to Dinah, “he couldn’t have predicted your… hand choreography.”

    Enter Horatio T.
    HR rep. Memo collector. Passive-aggressive with a soul.

    He bursts from his office and booms:

    “WHAT IN THE NAME OF DATA PRIVACY AND EMOTIONAL DAMAGE IS GOING ON HERE?!”

    Dinah (of course) points at Yohanes:

    “He started spreading gossip about Pete!”

    Yohanes panics. Apologizes. Dinah smiles like a cat that deleted your files.

    But even Horatio — who writes memos for therapy — can see the truth.

    “ENOUGH. If there’s any transfer happening, I’ll be the one to announce it. I am HR. And FYI… no one’s being transferred.”

    Yep. It was Dinah. Making things up. Again.

    Later that day, Susan, Yohanes, and Brenda are whispering at the fire exit, still doing a full debrief. Then they hear two male voices from below.

    One says:

    “‘Do not go about spreading slander among your people. Do not do anything that endangers your neighbor’s life. I am the LORD.’ – Leviticus.”

    Susan gasps:

    “Wait — who’s Leviticus?! Is that Pete’s replacement?”

    Yohanes:

    “Or the new Data Analyst?”

    Brenda rolls her eyes so hard the floor shakes:

    “It’s a book in the Bible. That’s a verse. From the actual Bible Leviticus 19:16 !

    They peek down and see… Ishmael.
    Quietly chatting with Horatio, who — surprisingly — sometimes seeks Ishmael’s advice.

    Turns out, the janitor isn’t just wise. He’s scripturally sharp.
    Horatio had asked how to handle gossip. And Ishmael simply quoted the truth.

     

    📄 MEMO from Horatio T. – Subject: Defamation of Character (aka Gossip Ends Here)

    To all employees (even if you’re morally bankrupt):

    Gossip is part of our survival strategy in the office. Without it, how else would we bond over microwaved spaghetti?
    But let me make this clear—if your gossip causes harm, it will be your employment status that gets reshuffled.

    Let’s build each other up, not burn each other down.
    In accordance with company policy…
    And the Book of Leviticus.

    Or pack up your decorative mugs and leave.

    Later that day, Susan and Yohanes didn’t gossip.
    They talked about the weather in Spain.

    And Dinah?
    Well… she was unusually quiet.
    Either she’s reflecting, plotting, or Googling “Leviticus.”
    Who knows?

    ✍️ Writer’s Note

    Hey, it’s me — Ember.

    Just a little disclaimer:

    The people in this story? Fictional.
    The chaos? Slightly exaggerated.
    But the message? Very real.

    After nearly 20 years in different workplaces, I’ve seen how gossip — even the “light” kind — can spread fast and hit deep.
    I’ve been a Susan and a Yohanes.
    This episode isn’t just for laughs… it’s a gentle reminder:
    Let’s build each other up, not tear each other down.

    Thanks for reading.
    Thanks for growing with me.

    Ember 🐾

    Still learning. Still rising. Still talking to Oishi.

  • Susan & Oishi: A Tale of The Signal Co. Ep. 1 – Character Introduction

    Narrator: Oishi
    (Reluctant. Tired. Overqualified for this nonsense.)

    Oishi (narrating):
    I don’t want to do this, but apparently, I’m the designated narrator of this madness—so here we are.

    I’m surrounded. Literally.
    To my left: Sahsmi, an orange Chihuahua with eyes big enough to reflect existential dread.
    On the rug: Bibimbap, our baby green elephant with the emotional intelligence of a therapist.
    Next to him, reclining like a celebrity scandal: Tteokbokki, the baby monkey—mid-burger, always.
    Staring from the aquarium with judgey bubbles: Maeutang, the fish.
    And stretching out in full drama-pony glory: Bulgogi, the baby blue horse who thinks he’s majestic. He is. He’s also clumsy but he’s not on the picture yet.

    Anyway.
    The past few days, Sus—my melodramatic, overcaffeinated hooman—has been coming home from work absolutely buzzing with chaos.
    She bursts through the door, scoops me up like I’m a purse dog, pins me under her arm, and says:

    “Oishi, my badoodle—I have a juicy scoop for you!”

    Then she monologues. For hours. Through dinner. Through dessert. Through my will to live.

    But I love Sus. So even if her voice pierces my eardrums like a kazoo powered by drama, I listen. Because love is patient. And she has the snacks.

    That said—my emotional support battery is draining faster than her phone at 3%.
    So each morning, when she leaves for work, I call my friends here and unload the tales before I emotionally combust.
    This, dear listener, is our ritual. And yes—there’s always a lesson, brought to you by yours truly:
    Oishi, your neighborhood PhilosoFurr.

    There are 11 coworkers—and one very dramatic hooman.

    Meet the team behind the drama. And the abs behind the confusion.

    There’s ten of them. Yes, 12 if you will count my Sus.
    So don’t fall asleep on me—I know it’s a lot, but trust me, they’re all important.
    Every single one of these characters is either a blessing, a lesson… or a cautionary tale wearing business casual.

    So listen up.
    Grab a fry.
    Let’s begin.

    Character 1: Susan V. – The Exaggerated Princess

    Susan V. is what happens when espresso, glitter, and unchecked emotions form a union.
    She’s in Customer Service but believes she’s in a high-stakes drama.
    Her morning mood is sponsored by “don’t talk to me,” and by dinner she’s dramatically whispering secrets into my ear like I’m her furry therapist.

    She calls me her badoodle, scoops me up like I’m a plush toy, and unleashes daily monologues that rival Netflix dramas.
    She wears shirts that say “Exaggerated Princess” because truth in labeling is important.

    But hey—she’s loyal, loud, and loves hard.
    So even if my ears suffer emotional damage, I listen.
    Because I love her.

    Character 2: Yohanes Abimbola – Gossip Analyst

    Yohanes isn’t technically paid to know everything—but he does.
    He doesn’t spread gossip to hurt. He spreads it because he’s got a talent for “informative observation with jazz hands.”

    His eyes sparkle with curiosity. His tone? Pure brunch gossip.
    He’s like the Wi-Fi of workplace drama—always on, mostly harmless.

    He wears mint green, pumpkin orange, and positivity.
    Even when he delivers eyebrow-raising intel, it’s with a smile that says,

    “I come in peace… but with details.”

    We love him. Even when we pretend we don’t.

    Character 3: Horatio T. – The HR Memo Monk

    Horatio T. is the kind of guy who walked into HR one day and never left. Not physically. Not spiritually.

    He’s got reddish-brown hair, thin-framed glasses, and a beige checkered suit so aggressively neutral it could erase your personality by eye contact alone.
    His tie? Pumpkin orange. Not because he’s fun. Because it’s mandatory brand compliance.

    He doesn’t talk—he issues memos.
    He doesn’t walk—he stomps silently, like a disappointed librarian.

    But here’s the twist:
    Deep, deep down in that spreadsheet-shaped soul… he has a heart.
    He’s helped employees file insurance claims like they were personal quests.
    He’s just trying to keep us from setting the place on fire—with rules.

    We call him the Memo Monk because if enlightenment had a PowerPoint, he would’ve written it.

    Character 4: Brenda Mondragon – The Voice of Reason

    Brenda is the reason this workplace hasn’t collapsed into a flaming pit of passive aggression and bad decisions.

    She’s 5’6″ of calm, moisturized authority.
    Her hair? Long, curly, hydrated. Her skin? Watered like a houseplant that knows its worth.
    She wears a calm green outfit paired with a delicate star pendant, like a walking parable with a good skincare routine.  
    And her white sneakers? Spotless. Like her reputation.

    Brenda is the only one who can:

    • Shush Yohanes mid-scoop.
    • Block Susan from eating a dozen donuts.
    • And disarm Horatio with a perfectly timed “Thank you for the memo, Horatio. We’ll take it into prayer.”

    She doesn’t say much—but when she does?
    It’s with biblical judgment and motherly precision.

    And rumor has it—she’s inviting Susan to church.

    Brenda doesn’t chase drama.
    Drama knocks and Brenda answers with a raised brow and a scripture.

    Character 5: Pete Erickson – The Number Snitch

    He’s pale. He’s nervous. He clutches his calculator like it’s the last loaf of bread in a zombie apocalypse.
    His glasses are thick enough to see into next fiscal year.
    He dresses like someone who gets mad when people use the color ink in the printer. (Because he does.)

    Pete’s superpower? Making everyone remember their taxes… in January.

    “Don’t forget to file your W-2.”

    He once tripped over a paperclip and filed an incident report… on himself.

    But here’s the thing: Pete means well. He’s just… Pete.
    He’s the human version of a paper jam. Awkward, unavoidable, and kind of tragic.
    But he keeps us legal. Barely.

    So we nod. We thank him.
    And we keep our receipts—just in case.

    Character 6: Macchismo D. – The Sales Adonis

    According to Susan, Macchismo is “so hot, volcanoes feel self-concious.
    Her pupils turn into tiny cartoon hearts every time she talks about him.
    It’s deeply concerning.

    Macchismo D. works in Sales, but let’s be honest—he sells himself just by walking into a room.
    He’s tall, muscular, and his raven-dark hair is so flawless.
    His smile sparkles. Literally. I suspect teeth glitter. Still investigating.

    He wears light blue polos like a superhero costume, and he says things like,

    “Let’s close this deal, team!”
    with the exact tone of someone who thinks that’s how you get promoted.

    People love him.
    People trust him.
    And honestly? That might be the real danger.

    He works under Jezzie Bell, who seems to have a lipstick-shaped leash on him.
    But hey, I’m just the dog. What do I know?

    For now, let’s just say this:
    Macchismo D. is dazzling.


    Character 7: Dinah Montgomery – The Gossip Queen

    If Yohanes is the office sparkle of harmless scoop, Dinah is the cold-brew version—strong, bitter, and served with no remorse.

    She walks in like she owns the building’s secrets.
    Black hair sleek as betrayal, snarky eyes, and glasses that serve zero optical purpose but scream “I see everything.”
    Her dark brown lipstick says “professional,” but her tone says “you’re about to get emotionally audited.”

    Dinah doesn’t just spill tea—she serves it pre-scorched.
    She’s not loud, but when she talks, people lean in… or leave.
    Because if Dinah says:

    “I saw Pete at the store,”
    you know she’s about to follow it up with something like:
    “…and the woman he was with wasn’t wearing a ring. Just saying.”

    She doesn’t ask questions—she plants landmines.

    Nobody really likes Dinah.
    But nobody wants to be on her radar either.
    Because if she doesn’t know your dirt… she’ll make some for you.

     Character 8: Jezzie Bell Morgan – The Corporate Siren

    Jezzie Bell Morgan doesn’t walk.
    She glides.
    Like a well-funded lawsuit in designer heels.

    Her red hair? Volcanic.
    Her lipstick? Same color as danger.
    Her vibe?
    “Sign here, sweetheart, and lose your soul in quarterly installments.”

    She’s the manager of the Sales department, which basically makes her the queen of convincing people to do things they’ll regret and thank her for afterward.
    She commands with a smile that says:

    “I already know what you’re going to say, and I’ve planned five responses, three bribes, and one perfectly timed sigh.”

    Jezzie doesn’t need to raise her voice.
    She just tilts her head and suddenly Macchismo is nodding like a bobblehead in a sauna.

    Her earrings sparkle.
    Her fingernails point like accusations.
    And when she says “trust me,” your instincts scream no—but your career prospects whisper yes.

    No one’s sure what she wants.
    But they know not to get in her way.

    Character 9: Philip Vaughn – The Office White Knight

    Most people in the office don’t pay much attention to Philip Vaughn.
    He’s listed as Internal Ops Assistant, which is corporate speak for “does everything quietly and without applause.”

    He doesn’t talk much.
    He doesn’t insert himself in gossip.
    He just shows up—early, focused, clean notebook, clean shirt, eyes like he’s reading your soul and your Google search history.

    But here’s the part no one really gets:
    When things go wrong—when Jezzie’s manipulating, Dinah’s detonating, and Macchismo is flexing his moral confusion—
    Philip steps in.
    Not loudly. Not dramatically.
    He just does the right thing like it’s muscle memory.

    Word around the breakroom is he’s a war veteran, which makes sense.
    He’s calm in chaos.
    Gentle with people.
    But firm when boundaries are crossed.

    He’s got white knight energy—the kind that doesn’t ask for credit.
    The kind that protects without performance.
    The kind that doesn’t bow to office power games or ego theatrics.

    You’ll probably overlook him.
    But he’s watching.
    And if you’re one of the good ones?
    He’s already in your corner.

    Character 10: Jasper P. – The Intern Who Spills Coffee and Feelings

    Jasper P. is the intern.
    You’ll know it the second you meet him—partly because he’ll tell you, and partly because he’ll already be apologizing for something.

    He’s got long-ish curly hair, permanently startled eyes, and the overall energy of someone who’s late for a meeting that doesn’t exist.

    He talks like a rapper who’s been hit with a mild anxiety attack:

    “Yo, yo, my bad, my fault, I was gonna fix that spreadsheet but then I spilled my latte and—uh—Pete slipped on it but he’s fine I think, and also the printer’s making a weird noise?”

    Jasper spills coffee, tea, water, information, and vibes.
    But he means well. And that’s the part that matters.

    And every time he spills something (which is… often), Ishmael appears—quietly, mop in hand.
    Never scolds. Never sighs. Just cleans up.

    Jasper may be clumsy.
    But he’s trying.
    And that makes him important.
    Not because he’s perfect—but because he wants to be better.

    Character 11: Ishmael – The Janitor With a Mysterious Calm

    Ishmael is… different.
    He doesn’t say much.
    He doesn’t need to.

    He wears an old janitor uniform, faded and clean.
    Silver hair, quiet eyes, and a beard that says “I’ve seen things, but I’ve forgiven most of them.”

    He’s always there.
    Not in a creepy way—more in a divine timing, slow-motion mop-wielding kind of way.

    Someone spills coffee? Ishmael’s already halfway there.
    Printer explodes? Ishmael’s got a wrench, a rag, and a quote from Proverbs.
    Jezzie tries to verbally flatten a coworker? Ishmael makes eye contact once, and she forgets her next sentence.

    People treat him like just a janitor.
    But those of us who watch—we know.
    There’s something about him that feels bigger.

    He moves like a man with nothing to prove and everything to teach—if you’re paying attention.

    They call him Ishmael the Janitor.
    But honestly?
    We don’t know who he really is.
    Not yet.

    And that’s the crew.

    Now you know who’s who.
    So when the drama starts—you won’t get lost.

    The real office saga begins in Episode 2.
    See You!
    📡 Totally Made-Up Company Alert: The Signal Co.: Not your internet provider — but we will disconnect your emotional stability. We don’t sell broadband. We sell breakdowns.

  • Susan & Oishi: Ep. 3 – Karaoke Night

    Susan & Oishi: Ep. 3 – Karaoke Night

    Narrator: Susan, the Emotionally Unsupervised Hooman
    Friday night: the people’s champion. Universally voted the second-best day after Saturday. After a long week of Zoom meetings, adulting, and Pete’s never-ending monologue about accounting taxes (ugh), it was finally here.

    Narrator: Oishi (yes, I’m a dog—keep up)
    Susan came bursting through the door like a caffeinated hurricane, slamming the car shut and storming into the house. I was mid-nap, belly-up, living my best Shih Tzu life, when suddenly—scoop!

    She squealed, “OISHI! We’re going Karaokeeeee with Yohanes and Brenda! They booked a bar!”
    Then she tied my red bandana like I was going to prom. I licked her face out of sheer survival instinct. She tasted salty, but emotionally enthused. I tolerated it.

    We arrived. It was a tiny room with a screen, two mics, and the heavy scent of regret. Susan grabbed the remote and went full maniac mode. The second the intro played, she clutched the mic like she was accepting a Grammy. Yohanes and Brenda screamed “GO SUS!” like she was Beyoncé’s backup singer.

    Then it started.
    🎵 “I cried a tear, you wiped it dry…” 🎵
    Yes. Anne Murray’s You Needed Me. The drama. The vibrato. The unblinking eye contact.

    I was concerned. But that concern escalated when Yohanes and Brenda started singing APT by Rose and Bruno Mars. Not just singing—dancing. If I were a human, I would’ve put my hand on my forehead and softly muttered, “No.”

    But… it wasn’t all bad.

    There was food.
    Savory. Glorious. Human-grade food.
    While they performed their emotional talent show, I worked the snack table like a professional. I’m not proud. I am full.

    We went home. We ate more.
    Then I passed out.

    Oishi, out. 🎤🐾

    No deep reflections from your Little Philisophurr today. Why?
    Because Susan said this one’s just a regular Friday.
    Not everything has to be profound.
    Sometimes, we just vibe.