Actual letter of resignation from an employee at Zantex Computers, USA, to
her boss, who apparently resigned very soon afterwards!
Dear Mr. Baker,
As an employee 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 myself 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 I 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.
Seeing as 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 "favorites 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 favorably by the
administration.
3. When you borrowed the digital camera to "take
pictures of your Mothers 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 f*** with your systems administrator.
Why? Because they know what you do with all that free
time!
Wishing you a grand and glorious day
Cecelia
her boss, who apparently resigned very soon afterwards!
Dear Mr. Baker,
As an employee 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 myself 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 I 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.
Seeing as 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 "favorites 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 favorably by the
administration.
3. When you borrowed the digital camera to "take
pictures of your Mothers 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 f*** with your systems administrator.
Why? Because they know what you do with all that free
time!
Wishing you a grand and glorious day
Cecelia
