Asshat of the Day: Costume Crimes in the Office
Published: October 31, 2025
When your coworkers treat Halloween like Coachella meets courtroom drama — and HR has already started drinking.
It’s Halloween. Your office always goes too far. Fluorescent lights flicker. The snack table groans under cookies that double as coasters. The playlist is stuck on “Pump Up the Jam” and “Freakazoid,” and suddenly the accounting department is doing the running man.
You came in grey suit, normal shoes, regular Tuesday energy — because you’re grown, and this is work. But you’re trapped in a funk of costumes, bad decisions, and presentation slides that have nothing to do with business.
There’s Boo-barella — the usually stoic business professional who’s dismantled her tailored blouse and replaced it with six inches of cleavage and a devil’s tail. Everyone knows she’s boffing Stan from Marketing, who thinks a toga + gold oil = “Greek god of synergy.”
Speaking of Stan — he’s oiled up, baby-tanned, clutching a flask under his toga like he’s smuggling productivity. You somehow know he’s been spiking the punch. Your stomach drops. HR does not survive this level of ambition.
Then there’s Intern Cat Girl — not just a seasonal accessory with cat ears and a faux-leather skirt — but a full-blown history buff and part-time social justice warrior. She’s standing next to Jamal, who showed up in a minstrel costume, proudly declaring it “historically accurate” like that’s going to save him from HR hellfire.
But here’s the twist: she’s STANNING for him. Outraged? Yes. Offended? Deeply. But also? Weirdly invested. She’s holding an actual history book — not her phone, a whole damn hardcover — and she’s quoting abolitionist essays while circling him like a prosecutor trying to rehabilitate a client she knows is guilty but tragically educable.
“Jamal. I admire the commitment. I do. But this is peak ‘right costume, wrong century.’ You could’ve been Frederick Douglass and we’d all be clapping. Instead, you’re one blindfold away from a DEI lawsuit.”
He blinks. He still doesn’t get it. You suspect he thinks she’s flirting.
The snack table? It’s a mixture of homemade chemistry experiments disguised as “gourmet dips” and bakery items so cardboard-hard they could qualify as ergonomic office tools. Your donut sits next to a bowl labeled “Ghoul Guac” that smells like regret and vat cheese.
The music blasts — 80s dance anthems loop like a virus. Someone’s spiking themselves into a blur of sweat, toner, and questionable HR compliance.
Meanwhile, you sit at your desk, notebook open — but you wrote nothing. You’re just watching the chaos. Your coffee is black. Your costume? Business casual. You’re not here for this. You’re just here. Which somehow makes you the most sane person in the room.
Public Service Announcement
If your costume includes a flask, a mythological identity crisis, unverified snack chemistry, or a wig you forgot you owned — you are the office hazard. Please grab a drink (not from the punch) and reconsider your life choices.
🖼️ Firefly Image Prompt
"Office Halloween party with overly sexualized costumes, man in toga with gold oil, racially problematic costume, angry intern holding a history book, bad snacks, solo cups, and confused coworkers in the background."
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#AsshatOfTheDay #OfficeHalloweenFails #HRViolationSeason #SexyTogaStan #ObservationalHumor #WorkplaceSatire
Coming Up Tomorrow
November 1: TBA — Depends how many HR meetings come out of this mess.
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