Posts Tagged ‘job’

Understandable

August 31, 2009

 

Dear HR Department:  

I hate you. I can’t do anything about it but drink heavily and vent to my friends. Oh yeah, and leave in 2 weeks. But before then,  I want to leave you with my parting wishes. 

******: It is so hard, given that I hate you so much. I don’t call you a cunt for nothing. I know in the past I wished you caught various diseases, were mangled in a horrible plane crash in Uganda or maybe got audited by the IRS. 

But then I found the best thing I could wish for you. 

May you have a dead-end, low-paying, brain-numbing, unimaginative, thankless job where you get no respect, have no control over your duties, are micromanaged by an idiot douchebag, have no opportunity for advancement, use no creative thinking skills, do the same thing over and over and fucking over again and deal with assholes who look down their noses at you out of a misguided European superiority complex, sense of entitlement classist contempt. 

In short, may you become an Office Manager. 

******: I don’t know you. But your claw hand weirds me out. May you learn the wonders of depilatory, because curly black hairs on a lady’s chin just skeeve me out. 

******: May you make the best of your brittle bone disease and break a few more phalanges, a tibia, and maybe crack that thick skull of yours. 

With kindest wishes,
*******

Throwing the lemonade

August 27, 2009

RIP Bill. RIPDear Asshole,

I want to ask you a question that the late, great Bill McNeil once posed to me, when I was a wee tyke.

“Have you ever heard the expression, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and then throw it in the face of the person who gave you the lemons until they give you the oranges you originally asked for?’”

I love Bill McNeil. Who doesn’t love Bill McNeil. He has gotten me through some tough times, that man. And now, he’ll get me through these next 2 weeks.

Anyway, I thought I should give you the heads up (pun intended) because I’m doing that right now. Only by “lemons” I mean you gave me hydrogen chloride and water. And by “lemonade” I mean hydrochloric acid. 

Potato, potahtoe.

Whatevs,

*******

Sarkasm, I haz it

August 26, 2009

Dear ********,

You’re going to indulge me while I engage in a past time we Americans like to call “snark.” It is really quite simple. Just try to keep up. 

 

You want me to count the number of pens and pencils in the office rather than work on recruitment when I have 4 urgent posts open? SURE. 

You sent me an email entitled “papertowel management” and expect me to respond? SURE. 

After deeming me “unqualified” for the job I already do, you hire a new HR Assistant and expect me to TRAIN her? SURE. 

So, do you get the general structure of the game? Let’s try the next level. 

You fire the HR Assistant who was MORE QUALIFIED THAN ME, then dump her duties on our intern -who incidently also interviewed for the HR Assistant job but was deemed unqualified AND was nice enough to kill some time in the office while trying to get a job? SURE. 

You not only dump the duties onto Unqualified Person #2 (Intern) but you expect her to do the job you wouldn’t pay her to do? SURE. 

You ask prioritize the collection all desk keys in the office, tag them, label them, put them in labeled envelopes, then have the person with the corresponding desk sign and seal the envelope of the key after I got back from vacation, and have about 10 days of emails? PS:  $40 in key copies later, and no less than 10 staff members tell me they don’t lock their desks anyway. SURE.

You tell me that you see me only as an office manager and expect me to stay here? SURE. 

Jesusfuck, this game is like Monopoly. It can seriously go on forever. Or for the next 2 weeks. 

Which, while having to deal with you, feels like forever. 

UGH, FUCKING DROP DEAD ALREADY,
*******

Raison d’etre

August 25, 2009

Dear ********,

Maybe I really am only capable of answering the phones. But I’ll be goddamned if I do it for you any longer. 

Sincerely,

*******

Query

August 25, 2009

 

Dear ********, 

Why are you such an asshole? Can you explain that to me, typed, double-spaced and in 200 words or less, before I leave? Hell at this point I’d even accept an explanation in the form of a puppet show. 

Thanx,
*******

Opportunity knocks

August 24, 2009

Dear ********,

I got the opportunity to not see you every day. I’m taking it. 

Go to hell,

*******

We interrupt your regularly scheduled ranting for this important announcement

August 21, 2009

The person they hired- rather than “promoting me”- got fired.  

You know. The one who was “more qualified” than me. 

Because aforementioned person -wait for it –

COULDN’T DO THE FUCKING JOB. 

and breathe in–

HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAH

HAHAHAHHAAHHAAHAH HAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA 

breathe– 

HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHNHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH 

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH

HAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAH

Tonight, drinks are on me!

 

And now, back to your regularly scheduled ranting. 

Thanx,

-The Mgmt

Nice pants

August 19, 2009

Dear *******,

I want to thank you for wearing your stupid swishy pants. It has made my time much easier here and for that I am grateful. See, when I heard you swishing down the hall, I knew exactly how many seconds I had to quickly switch Internet windows from job hunting/blog reading/apartment searching/blogging/emailing/chatting back to something work-related. 

Best regards, 
*******

“Maggots, Michael, you’re eating maggots.”

August 19, 2009

Dear ********,

I bet you’re wondering which wall(s) I hid the 10-day old raw shrimp in, huh.  Well, I reckon you’ll find the location(s) as soon as you find that part from the air conditioner, the keys to the restrooms and what’s left of my pride. 

Happy hunting, you rotten cunt,

*******

Life is Good ™

August 19, 2009

Dear ********,

Every day I come to work I want to steal that poster bearing the girl out of the douche ad that screams “No joy in life? FREE DEPRESSION SCREENING.”  

It would go so well with the collection of Prozac ads that once hung above my bed. 

God knows I’ve been depressed for every one of the 372 days I’ve been employed here. Anyway, I’m taking it in 2 weeks. Try and stop me. 

Sincerely, 
*******