Posts Tagged ‘office’

“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,



Kitchen Aide

August 18, 2009

Dear ********,

I am quitting in 2 weeks because I did not go to college for 5 years to be a kitchen attendant. Milk. Coffee. Sugar. Refill the soaps. Clean the dishes people leave. Clean out the refrigerator after someone has left what may have been pad thai for 5 months. Wipe up your crumbs. Milk. Coffee. Sugar. Coffee filters. Refill the soaps. Milk. Coffee. Sugar. Buy more papertowels. According to you, my job begins and ends in the kitchen.  

So don’t bother to interview anyone to replace me. Just send them out with $10 and your garbled French instructions and see what they come back with. If they don’t run off with the money, and manage to get even 1 of the million stupid kitchen things you check every day, they’re your new office manager. 

I hope someday you drown in a vat of Palmolive, you waste of sperm and eggs. 



August 17, 2009

Dear *******,

This office is full of jerks. You know it and I know it. Trouble is, you won’t admit your own jerkocity. 

You are a jerk. You demand results, take away the tools I need to do the job and blame me for failure. You bounce me between departments rather than taking the lead and acting like the DIRECTOR you’re paid to be. You’ve thrown me under the bus more times than I can count.   You micromanage me, insult me, belittle me, and expect me to enjoy being here. You’re a jerk, plain and simple. 

After I’m gone, don’t place a help-wanted ad, don’t call a temp agency. Call the Jerkstore; they’ll have exactly what you need. 

Fuck you,

Get Bent

August 13, 2009


Dear *******, 

When you told me to count the pens and pencils in the office, I only thought 2 things. 

Now that I’m leaving, I can share them with you. 



August 12, 2009

Dear ******,

When you told me I didn’t get the job I already do here, did you expect me to cry? Cuz when you sitting there blabbing, I was thinking how much I’d like to beat you with a pillowcase filled with batteries. 

Sincerely yours, 


August 12, 2009

Dear *******,

When I expressed interest in making a lateral move within this organization (only to get away from your direct supervision, I might add), you and your cronies put me through a demeaning and insulting “recruitment” process, after I’ve been here 9 months doing 80% of the job-in-question already (check my timesheets, bitch). You then told me flat out if someone has more qualifications you’ll prefer them to me (I’m still checking on the legalities of that one). 

You then put me through a 1.5 hour interrogation, told me I’m not qualified to do the job I already do and hired someone with 7 years less experience than me. 

And you think I’m going to stay in this stupid job? 

I mean, seriously. 



August 11, 2009

Dear Asshole,

I hate you because you ruin my Sunday nights. Somewhere around 4pm I realize that I have to go to work on Monday and the only way I can deal with that and knowing I’ll have to see you is by drinking heavily. 

I quit. If for no reason other than to save what’s left of my liver. 

You’re the human equivalent of a used condom, 



August 4, 2009

Dear ******,

First, please print a copy of this for your easy reference.  

Second, please sit down and have a sip of coffee. 

Third, enjoy. 

In lieu of the standard 2 weeks’ notice, I’ve decided to smear everything in your office with raw chicken. Your phone? Yup.  Your door handles? Yup. Desk top? Check.  Every key, crevice and contour of your keyboard, your coffee mug, your pens and pencils, your bag of almonds- you better believe every possible surface has been hit. It’s in your paperclips, your stapler,  and your fountain pen. Yes siree, I filled your chair with raw fowl, washed your windows with it, and I even took the liberty of replacing your mouthwash with mint-flavored chicken water. 

By the time you read this, you will be in the throes of salmonella.  I just thought I’d provide you with some….reading material. You’re gonna be in the mens’ room for a long, long time. 

Sing it with me now!

La la la, salmonella, 



August 4, 2009

Dear *******,

2 weeks notice? Seriously, I left this job like 8 months ago. But yeah, in 2 weeks I won’t be here physically anymore either.

Hire a temp or a trained monkey or something.


Memo: To the cunt in HR

August 1, 2009


Re: addressing your staff

Re: my name is not “HEY”

Re: I am also not one of your girls:

enclosure: 9 to 5 (thank you IMDB)

Violet: Okay… okay, I’m gonna leave, but I’ll tell you one thing… don’t you ever refer to me as ‘your girl’ again. 
Franklin M. Hart Jr.: What is God’s name are you talking about? 
Violet: I’ll tell you what I’m talking about; I’m no girl, I’m a woman. I’m not you wife… OR your mother. 
Violet: [gesturing toward Doralee] Or even your mistress. 
Doralee: What? 
Violet: I am your employee and as such I expect to be treated with a little dignity and a little respect!

God, I totally forgot how funny this movie is. Thank you WE Tv for reminding me; when you’re not running stupid shit shows about sextuplets, you actually show some fun stuff.