(When “Best regards” turns into a career-ending catastrophe.)
They say words are powerful. But nothing is more powerful than Autocorrect when it decides to sabotage your entire existence.
Act I: The Innocent Email
It was a Wednesday. Middle of the week, motivation running on fumes. I was sitting at my desk, half-heartedly responding to emails while shoving chin-chin into my mouth.
And then it happened. The Email of Doom.
Subject: “Team Updates”
From: Chuka (a.k.a. me, a perfectly average employee)
To: Entire Department, Including the CEO
I drafted a quick response. Nothing fancy, just:
“Hi everyone,
Thanks for the update. I’ll circle back with more details later.
Best regards, Chuka”
Easy. Professional. Respectful. My chin-chin-crusted fingers hovered over “Send,” and I clicked.
Except… I didn’t send what I thought I sent.
Act II: The Betrayal
You know that cold sweat that creeps up your spine when something feels off? That was me, seconds after hitting “Send.” A nagging voice in my brain whispered:
“Double-check the email, you fool.”
So I did. And there it was. The part where my life spiraled into chaos.
Instead of “Best regards,” Autocorrect decided I meant:
“Breast regards, Chuka.”
BREAST REGARDS.
To everyone. Including the CEO, the HR manager, and Susan from accounting who already thought I was weird.
Act III: The Panic Spiral
My brain short-circuited. I froze, staring at the screen, willing it to change. Maybe if I blinked hard enough, reality would correct itself.
It didn’t.
I started mumbling to myself like a mad person:
“No. No-no-no-no-NO!”
I scrambled to hit “Undo Send.” But thanks to the universe’s cruel sense of humor, my office email didn’t have that feature. The email was gone, shooting through cyberspace like a missile aimed at my career.
Act IV: The Office Reaction
I heard it before I saw it. The first snicker. Then a muffled laugh. Tunde from accounting (yes, it’s always Tunde) practically fell out of his chair.
A message popped up on Slack from my work bestie, Ada:
“Breast regards?? BROOOO”
Another Slack notification:
Susan: “Did you mean to send that?”
Oh no. Susan had QUESTIONS.
And then, the cherry on this disastrous cake:
A reply from the CEO:
“Thanks for the update, Chuka. Interesting choice of regards.”
I wanted to dig a hole under my desk and disappear forever.
Act V: The Walk of Shame to HR
Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my email dinged again.
Subject: “Meeting Request: Clarification on Email Tone”
From: HR Department
The HR office is three doors down. The walk felt like a death march. Each step screamed, “You idiot! ‘Best regards’ was right there!”
I entered, and the HR manager, Mrs. Olumide, greeted me with a look that was one part pity, two parts “Are you serious?”
“Chuka,” she began, “about your… choice of sign-off.”
I blurted out, “It was AUTOCORRECT! I SWEAR!”
She sighed, leaned back, and said, “Let’s just call it a ‘teachable moment.’”
Translation: You’re not fired, but you’re never living this down.
Act VI: The Legend Lives On
I walked back to my desk, avoiding eye contact with everyone. My inbox was now a war zone of jokes:
- “Breast wishes for your future emails!”
- “Sending you all my breast regards, bro.”
- Tunde: “Chuka, what font did you use? Times New Romance?”
I deserved it. All of it.
To this day, whenever I type “Best regards,” I double, triple, and quadruple check. My brain now screams, “Don’t you dare betray me!”
But some wounds never heal. Every time I pass Mrs. Olumide, she just smiles and says:
“Breast regards, Chuka.”
Moral of the Story
- Autocorrect is not your friend. It’s a petty little gremlin waiting for the perfect moment to ruin your life.
- Undo Send is a gift. If your email doesn’t have it, quit your job immediately (just kidding… kinda).
- If you make an epic typo, own it. At least you’ll become an office legend.
So if you think you’ve had a bad workday, remember: I signed off an email to my CEO with “Breast regards.”
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