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Actual letter of resignation
from an employee to her boss ...
...
who apparently resigned very soon afterwards!
Dear Mr. Baker,
As a graduate of an institution of
higher education, I have a few very basic expectations. Chief
among these is that my direct superiors have an intellect
that ranges above the common ground squirrel. After your
consistent and annoying harassment of my co-workers and me
during the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that
you are one of the few true genetic wastes of our time.
Asking me, a network administrator,
to explain every little nuance of everything I do each time
you happen to stroll into my office is not only a waste of
time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired
because I know how to network computer systems, and you were
apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other
employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the
concept of "cut and paste" for the hundredth time.
You will never understand computers.
Something as incredibly simple as binary still gives you too
many options. You will also never understand why people hate
you, but I am going to try and explain it to you, even though
I am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what
an IP is. Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you
ever will.
You walk around the building all day,
shiftlessly looking for fault in others. You have a sharp
dressed useless look about you that may have worked for your
interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you
pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will
cover for your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial
evolution, you are the blue-green algae that everyone else
eats and laughs at. Managers like you are a sad proof of the
Dilbert principle. Since this situation is unlikely to change
without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am
forced to tender my resignation, however I have a few parting
thoughts.
1. When someone calls you in
reference to employment, it is illegal for you to give me a
bad recommendation. The most you can say to hurt me is "I
prefer not to comment." I will have friends randomly call you
over the next couple of years to keep you honest, because I
know you would be unable to do it on your own.
2. I have all the passwords to every
account on the system, and I know every password you have
used for the last five years. If you decide to get cute, I am
going to publish your "favourites list", which I conveniently
saved when you made me "back up" your useless files. I do
believe that terms like "Lolita" are not usually viewed
favourably by the administration.
3. When you borrowed the digital
camera to "take pictures of your Mother's birthday," you
neglected to mention that you were going to take pictures of
yourself in the mirror nude. Then you forgot to erase them
like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice it to say I
have never seen such odd acts with a sauce bottle, but I
assure you that those have been copied and kept in safe
places pending the authoring of a glowing letter of
recommendation. (Try to use a spell check please; I hate
having to correct your mistakes.)
Thank you for your time, and I expect
the letter of recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow.
One word of this to anybody, and all of your little twisted
repugnant obsessions will be open to the public. Never mess
with your systems administrator. Why? Because they know what
you do with all that free time!
Wishing you a grand and glorious day,
Cecelia
Submitted by Tom,
Fairfield, Pa.
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