Co-worker One: "Wait. A salesman who's a zombie, or...?"
Me: "A seller of used zombies. They'd have to be voodoo zombies, obviously."
CW1: "For, what? Cleaning your house? Yeah."
Me: "And manual labor, that sort of thing."
Me: "You'd need to find a reputable dealer. I mean you'd hate to get your new zombie home and find that it had a broken leg, and they'd just splinted over it."
CW1: "Yeah, you wouldn't want your zombie trying to mow the lawn with a broken leg. Too hard to walk in a straight line."
Co-worker Two: (Appears, hands paper to CW1, looks confused) "What was that?"
Me: "We're talking about the difficulties of buying a good used zombie. I mean, you go to a disreputable used zombie salesman, and the next thing you know your zombie has all sorts of wear and tear that they didn't tell you about at the dealership."
CW2: "Oh, I see. Like, two days later he's falling apart - the dog's running off with his arm..."
Me: "Exactly... And this is why I love working here."
While we're on the subject, here's something to help you celebrate Valentine's Day: