Here at Pillsbury, we’ve made the difficult decision to retire our longstanding mascot the Pillsbury Doughboy. He is a bad coworker and a relic of an office culture that is no longer acceptable in the modern era.
He is seven feet tall, smells of yeast, and sleeps in his office. His favorite activity is compressing his body into the office fridge. Being constrained in cold temperatures seems to make him more powerful, and his muffled giggles are very distracting. We are sick of being asked to poke his belly. He spends most of the time moping around, feeding pigeons with pieces of his own flesh in the parking lot. When confronted about his day-to-day activities, the Doughboy sulks and whines about how everyone is so mean to him.
Sure, it’s cute when he giggles, but it’s unbearable when he cries. The most minor request from a coworker elicits a banshee scream that drives nearby coworkers to madness. When we politely asked him to stop microwaving his fish, he shattered the breakroom windows with his wailing.
