Energy Drinks are so EXTREME!!!

With our exemplary effort of late, The Man has decided to give us our own office. Sure it used to house brooms and mops, but hey, we've got a door, a light (now), and with the extension chord plugged-in, we're able to type out our little NLNC ditties.

So, our clos errrrr, office, is right in-between the marketing and sales departments, and these sales dudes are slaying us. There are about five of them running around and we have a difficult time telling them apart. White...check, 35ish...check, 4th grade boy hair (you know, the over-gelled spike look)...check, double-pleated Dockers...check, golf shirt...check, 20 lbs over weight...check, refer to most every guy they pass as bud, buddy or bro...check, refer to us, under their breaths of-course, as names that rhyme with sneer and, ummmm laggot. We love these dudes, and could go on-and-on, but what endears them to us most is their love for energy drinks.

It's out-of-control!!! These dudes are so intense, that it's high comedy around here all the time. An all-to-common scene around here is Salesmanslapdick Bob pulling into the office at 8am, pounding one of those ridiculous 16oz cans of internal combustion, and then frantically pacing around with his eyes bulging out of his dome, while screaming some business double talk into his blue tooth headset.

Bro, ________ is such a good product. It's going to save you time and money, and both you and I know that time equals money. Am I right?!?!? Am I right?!?!?! _________ is gonna free up your ________ department to do what it is you pay them to do, which is to make ________. Am I right?!?!?!? Am I right?!?!?!? Now we've been going around in circles for weeks about this, so what's it gonna take for us to get this done?...Oh, and can I interest you in a set of steak knives too?

As he signs off the call, he pops the top for round two, wishes the sore-eared customer the best, hangs-up, slams energy drink two, and then -- if the deal wasn't made -- smashes his desk into little pieces, and -- if the deal was made -- he smashes his desk into little pieces.

After the obligatory high fives and chest bumps from his chronies, for breaking his desk, we like to walk past their desk about 10 minutes later to see them passed-out on the floor, dick usually in hand, after the rush of sugar and caffeine has subsided.