HUNTLEY, IL — At approximately 4:57 p.m. on a Friday—widely recognized by scientists as “the last hour where nothing matters and time ceases to exist”—local receptionist Jizzabel reportedly entered a higher plane of consciousness, abandoning all professional duties in favor of confidently guessing who was coming up the stairs.
Witnesses say the game began innocently, with Jizzabel staring blankly at the stairwell and murmuring, “Hmm… probably Karen from accounting,” despite having no visual confirmation, audio cues, or, notably, any reason to believe Karen was even in the building.
“By 4:59 she was fully committed,” said one nearby employee who had also emotionally clocked out sometime around lunch. “She wasn’t just guessing—she was declaring. Like a psychic, but wrong.”
Sources confirm that moments later, a lone figure appeared at the top of the stairs—none other than the company president, visiting unannounced in what experts are calling “an extremely ill-timed attempt at leadership visibility.”
Without hesitation, Jizzabel reportedly squinted for half a second and announced, with absolute conviction:
“Oh, that’s… um… Jessica? From… marketing?”
According to internal reports, Jessica from marketing does not exist.
The president, who had not been addressed as “Jessica” at any point in his professional career, paused briefly before continuing forward, presumably reconsidering decades of life decisions.
“I’ve led this company through recessions, expansions, and a printer that never worked,” he later said in a statement. “But I was not prepared to be spiritually rebranded as ‘some chick.’”
Jizzabel, however, remained unfazed.
“Look, it was 5:00,” she explained. “At that point, everyone is just a vibe. Titles are meaningless. We’re all just guesses walking up stairs.”
HR has since launched an investigation into what they’re calling “Advanced Levels of Friday,” while also acknowledging that productivity company-wide had dropped to “legally unmeasurable levels” sometime around 2:15 p.m.
At press time, Jizzabel was reportedly preparing for Monday by sharpening her skills—successfully identifying the mailman as “possibly Steve, or like, a dentist.”