An individual who accepts their meager existence in back-offices and gray cubicle rows until they dissipate into pure anonymity. Frequently excreted on by the rest of the company as a human cesspool, they lurk in the hazy glow of asinine spreadsheets and fruitless excel recreation. Individuals suffering from this syndrome have been known to cope with their existence by extended lunches at ill repute bars playing buck-hunter and talking about how they are "under appreciated". Severe psychological damage and alcoholism are the most commonly experienced byproducts.
Joe is not management material, he had a 15 dollar break which shows how poor of a fund accountant he is.
And here is our back-office, they are the piece-of-shit (POS) fund accountants who crunch our numbers.
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The disruption of social discourse prompted by the passing and/or presence of an attractive female. This state is known to temporarily render the individual incapable of speech and or interaction on any level which is caused from the shock of blood pumping south.
"Hey brah, so I was headed to the electric beach when I realized I forgot...." (long pause prompted by passing female). "Whoa. Uhhh, sorry I got crotch shock, what was I saying?"
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