Natalie Sue

In this wildly funny and heartwarming office comedy, an admin worker accidentally gains access to her colleagues' private emails and DMs and decides to use this intel to save her job--a laugh-till-you-cry debut novel you'll be eager to share with your entire list of contacts, perfect for fans of Anxious People and Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine. As far as Jolene is concerned, her interactions with her colleagues should start and end with her official duties as an admin for Supershops, Inc. Unfortunately, her irritating, incompetent coworkers don't seem to understand the importance of boundaries. Her secret to survival? She vents her grievances in petty email postscripts, then changes the text color to white so no one can see. That is until one of her secret messages is exposed. Her punishment: sensitivity training (led by the suspiciously friendly HR guy, Cliff) and rigorous email restrictions. When an IT mix-up grants her access to her entire department's private emails and DMs, Jolene knows she should report it, but who could resist reading what their coworkers are really saying? And when she discovers layoffs are coming, she realizes this might just be the key to saving her job. The plan is simple: gain her boss's favor, convince HR she's Supershops material, and beat out the competition. But as Jolene is drawn further into her coworker's private worlds and realizes they are each keeping secrets, her carefully constructed walls begin to crumble--especially around Cliff, who she definitely cannot have feelings for. Eventually she will need to decide if she's ready to leave the comfort of her cubicle, even if that means coming clean to her colleagues. Crackling with laugh-out-loud dialogue and relatable observations, I Hope This Finds You Well is a fresh and surprisingly tender comedy about loneliness and love beyond our computer screens. This sparkling debut novel will open your heart to the everyday eccentricities of work culture and the undeniable human connection that comes along with it.

I Hope This Finds You Well

Laura Dobie

Ron McDowell lost access to the shared drive last month and has opted to try to live without it by simply working way less. Nobody has noticed.

"No, I don't have Facebook," I say quickly. "I see enough ugly babies IRL."

I stifle a groan. Yes, I did take the leadership courses to get out of regular work. And I passed--but so did everyone who attended. Larry's certificate is currently framed in his office; he's essentially advertising that he sat in a room and possibly stayed conscious for three days.

I cough into my drink. There's no way I'd ever be able to take care of a tiny human life when I've killed plants faster than Armin without trying -Rhonda was right to kidnap Joey.

And there it is. Cliff, the fucking doodler with his donut birthday gift who pretended not to be like other HR guys, colluding with Gregory, the guy who can't even rotate PDFS so he instead twists his monitor. Of course these two will be deciding our fates. Typical. 

I absently scroll Gregory's email, judging his terrible grammar, offensive jokes, and boomer overuse of ellipses. Why do men like him always get so far? It should be impossible if the world were serious.

I sit frozen, still staring at my screen. The three dots in the chat have disappeared. I was so close to knowing exactly what she had in store. Why can't we normalize telling babies and the people who love them to fuck off in some polite way?

I expand my reading into other departments. It's kind of addicting to read work-related emails about tasks I know nothing about. It's like a bizarro-world version of my departmnent, a puzzle made of several different shapes. And it's also mad how the same tasks get volleyed around departments, going nowhere or being repeated unnecessarily. If I ever suspected my work was pointless, I now can provide evidence.

Armin raises his eyebrow at me, clearly imploring me to interject. But defending him would mean going against Rhonda, who is finally coming around to liking me. So I look down at my keyboard.

Even as a fake girlfriend, I seem to need improvement.

Has anyone ever read meeting minutes after a meeting?

Rhonda nods, smiling way too hard. She's propped herself front and center at the table to take meeting minutes that nobody asked for. She'll likely file them away in some cabinet afterward, never to be seen again.

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