I work in an office sitcom...and my coworkers share my dark sense of humor.

I work in accounting for a mid-sized company in Seattle, and other than the obvious off-limits areas for jokes (crassly sexual/racist/homophobic/at-a-coworker's-expense, common sense stuff), the sense of humor of the office can venture into some pretty interesting territory.

Like this morning, when I dropped off some paperwork in my boss's office then popped in on an impromptu meeting between him and one of our cost accountants.

Me: "Hey boss, just dropped off some purchase orders for approval on your desk. Leftovers from yesterday because of that whole left-early thing."

Cost accountant (CA): "Oh, you moved into your new place?"

Me: "Yeah, gonna move the rest of my stuff on Saturday but got the keys and got the basics set up. It's nice. Better neighborhood, used to live there a few years ago before I got priced out, but now that I've got a better job..."

Boss: "So you're right by the train station, right?"

Me: "Yeah, way shorter commute. Just have to make sure I leave the house on time so I'm not on the wrong side of the tracks when the ding-ding-ding happens..." (words are not my strong suit first thing in the morning) "...and the train's on the other side."

CA: "Yeah, wouldn't want to get hit by a train."

Me: "That actually happens a lot."

CA (shocked): "Really?"

Me: "Yeah. Ever since the pandemic started it's like once a month. They even posted a sign with the phone number for the suicide hotline by the tracks. It's a real problem."

CA: "What an awful way to go though."

Me: "Depends on how the train hits you..."

Boss (picking up my thought): "Yeah, if it hits you head-on it's probably quick and relatively painless. You don't want to get dragged down the tracks though..." (shudder)

CA: "Oh sure, getting killed is fine but you wouldn't want to get maimed, that would be terrible."

Me: "Yeah, you don't want a little dribbler down the third base line, you want a home run."

Boss: "Gotta get a clean hit. Good exit velocity."

Me: "Launch angle and exit velocity. Get out the rye bread and the mustard..."

CA (finishing my sentence) "...Grandma, it is grand salami time!* Or ground salami..."

Me: "Don't ask what's in the burgers at the Jack in the Box."

Boss (after composing himself): "OK, so, yeah, Fox, I'll have those POs for you, and (to CA) here are those payroll reports."

Me, heading back to my office and laughing: "I fucking love this job."

*if you're from Seattle, you don't need me to explain this. If you aren't from Seattle, go watch Part 3 of Jon Bois and Alex Rubenstein's history of the Mariners on YouTube. Or search "Dave Niehaus grand salami" and enjoy the calls.