by Ben Styles
A dark and cthonic prayer to Stan, dread lord of the administrative department!
From the struggle of corporate meetings, deliver us!
From the strain of meeting our next deadline, deliver us!
Oh mighty angel, lord commander of the infernal host, heir to the throne of eternal agony, deliver us!
From mixing Comic Sans and Times New Roman, deliver us!
From the temptation of raiding the office pantry, deliver us!
Oh mighty angel, fair-haired and white of smile, ye who delivers the lost and lethargic from their sin of sloth, deliver us!
From the pain of realizing we didn't send that important email, deliver us!
From the feeling of being watched by Greg in the next cubicle over, deliver us!
Oh perfect adjudicator, oh handsome smile! Ye who delivers swift judgment on the lax and unproductive, ye who allows the rains of graft to fall on whom it pleases, deliver us!
From the soul-grinding machinery of the corporate beast, deliver us!
From the constant threat of corporate down-sizing, deliver us!