Cheers — here's to learning the unspoken rules without losing your edge.
Fresh today · Wednesday, 24 June
New Wishes
A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.
Wishing you a workplace where 'fine' actually means fine.
Best of luck — may you find at least one person worth gossiping with at the coffee machine.
New role, fresh slate — may you write something worth reading.
May the goals be clear, the resources be real, and the timelines be human.
Wishing you mentors who pick up the phone and peers who answer texts.
↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion
What are we writing today?
Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.
- Anniversary
- Baby
- Belated
- Best
- Birthday
- Boy
- Boyfriend
- Christian
- Christmas
- Congratulation
- Diwali
- Easter
- Eid Mubarak
- Engagement
- Farewell
- Fathers Day
- Friendship
- Funny
- Get Well
- Girl
- Girlfriend
- Good Morning
- Good Night
- Graduation
- Hanukkah
- Heart Touching
- Holiday
- Invitation
- Job
- Love
- Miss You
- Mothers Day
- New Year
- Recovery
- Retirement
- Romantic
- Thank You
- Thanksgiving
- Wedding
- Well
- Women's Day
- Sympathy
- Valentine's Day
- Halloween
- Veterans Day
More from today
Good luck — the only thing that lasts forever is the welcome email, save a copy.
May this job pay you in money first and meaning eventually.
Cheers to the next stop — neither the last nor the final, just the next.
Wishing you the courage to ask questions even when they sound obvious.
Best of luck — your first 'no' will earn you more respect than your first ten 'yeses.'
May you find your rhythm before they expect you to have one.
New job, soft launch — wishing you a quiet entrance and a loud exit when the time comes.
May the work be challenging without being cruel.
Wishing you the kind of boss who remembers what it was like to be new.
Good luck — the building will feel familiar by Thursday, the people by month two.
Cheers to you — go make the kind of memory that outlasts the job title.
Goodbye, cubicle — may your printer jam forever in protest of my departure.
Leaving a job is just breaking up with a building, and honestly, this building had it coming.
To my coworkers: I'll miss most of you, you know who you are, and the rest — best wishes vaguely.
On my way out — please update the wiki, or don't, I no longer care, beautifully.
They say don't burn bridges, but I'm at least leaving the matches in a visible spot.
Last day vibes: emptying my desk and pretending I'll keep in touch.
Resignation accepted, dignity intact, swag bag unreasonably heavy — peace out.
To the next person at this desk: the chair leans left, the manager leans louder.