do i have to stay?
Napoleon decided to regale me with tales of how he finally got some with his completely insane fat ex-girlfriend (we'll call her Miss Piggy) and we going into such illicit detail as to the blow jobs that he actually FOLLOWED ME INTO THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM AT WORK TO CONTINUE THE STORY!!!!
Me: WHAT THE MOTHER FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?
Napoleon: Where are we? (looking around, confused)
Me: Where do you think we are?
Napoleon: It looks like the bathroom! What are we doing in here?
Me: I know what I'M doing in here, I very clearly ended my last sentence with, "Good night, I'm leaving, I'll see you tomorrow."
I swear to fucking Dog, if my paperwork, currently sitting on the Security Group's desk up at corporate, waiting on them to get off their asses to call on my references who have absolutely positively not been called yet, does not go through soon, someone is going to die of unnatural causes.
Tuesday saw me going to the Gwinnett knitting group of some unknown name at La Madeleine to meet Janice to give her the yarn prominently pictured in the spring green on her blog, the Karabella lace mohair. This was her resignation letter for those of you too lazy to read the comments:
Write a fairly conventional resignation letter. Present it to him with a posy of drooping flowers in a fat vase. Wait a beat to see if he gets it.
Or
Dear Soon-to-be former employer:
I'm writing to let you know that I will be leaving this job in 2 weeks. I can no longer GET UP any enthusiasm for work here. My spirits DROOP LIMPLY when I get up in the morning to come to work. There's nothing here to AROUSE my curiosity anymore.
I have a chance to RISE to a new opportunity. It's a job that requires the THRUST of intellectual activity that I crave. It also comes with a FAT new salary. In fact, I can already feel myself SWELLING with pride at the thought of moving on.
Sincerely--
YourName
Extra credit: Print it on the back of a spam email for V!ag ra or some other male enhancement product.
Rabbitch submitted the following:
Dear Genitally-Incompetent Neanderthal:
Although the prospect of discussing your erectile dysfunction and/or the intimate details of your private life -- at taxpayer's expense -- has been one of the few reasons to chew through the restraints and come to work every morning for the past ___ (fill in number) years, I find myself in the difficult position of having to choose between being treated like a well-paid adult, or continuing to make myself available for your further abuse for an undetermined length of time.
Although the choice would seem obvious to any sane person with the smallest shred of self-respect, I find myself in the startling position of having made the opposite choice.
Therefore, my finaly day in your employ will be _____ (fill in date. I would like at this time to invite you to go fuck yourself, as comprehensively as your medical condition will allow. I would then appreciate it if you would bite your own ass, very very hard, my ass being unavailable to you for this purpose.
Sincerely,
She Who Does Not Want A Reference Letter
Somehow I think Rabbitch has had experience with this.
The cashmere goodness is progressing. I'm on the second repeat of the cable pattern.
I have a friend who is looking for an Aran sweater to knit with an underarm measurement of 50". She was looking at Rogue but it only goes to 48". Alice Starmore patterns (I do own Aran Knitting having purchased it when it was new at $35) only go up to 38". She doesn't like the men's sweaters. Ideas?
Me: WHAT THE MOTHER FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?
Napoleon: Where are we? (looking around, confused)
Me: Where do you think we are?
Napoleon: It looks like the bathroom! What are we doing in here?
Me: I know what I'M doing in here, I very clearly ended my last sentence with, "Good night, I'm leaving, I'll see you tomorrow."
I swear to fucking Dog, if my paperwork, currently sitting on the Security Group's desk up at corporate, waiting on them to get off their asses to call on my references who have absolutely positively not been called yet, does not go through soon, someone is going to die of unnatural causes.
Tuesday saw me going to the Gwinnett knitting group of some unknown name at La Madeleine to meet Janice to give her the yarn prominently pictured in the spring green on her blog, the Karabella lace mohair. This was her resignation letter for those of you too lazy to read the comments:
Write a fairly conventional resignation letter. Present it to him with a posy of drooping flowers in a fat vase. Wait a beat to see if he gets it.
Or
Dear Soon-to-be former employer:
I'm writing to let you know that I will be leaving this job in 2 weeks. I can no longer GET UP any enthusiasm for work here. My spirits DROOP LIMPLY when I get up in the morning to come to work. There's nothing here to AROUSE my curiosity anymore.
I have a chance to RISE to a new opportunity. It's a job that requires the THRUST of intellectual activity that I crave. It also comes with a FAT new salary. In fact, I can already feel myself SWELLING with pride at the thought of moving on.
Sincerely--
YourName
Extra credit: Print it on the back of a spam email for V!ag ra or some other male enhancement product.
Rabbitch submitted the following:
Dear Genitally-Incompetent Neanderthal:
Although the prospect of discussing your erectile dysfunction and/or the intimate details of your private life -- at taxpayer's expense -- has been one of the few reasons to chew through the restraints and come to work every morning for the past ___ (fill in number) years, I find myself in the difficult position of having to choose between being treated like a well-paid adult, or continuing to make myself available for your further abuse for an undetermined length of time.
Although the choice would seem obvious to any sane person with the smallest shred of self-respect, I find myself in the startling position of having made the opposite choice.
Therefore, my finaly day in your employ will be _____ (fill in date. I would like at this time to invite you to go fuck yourself, as comprehensively as your medical condition will allow. I would then appreciate it if you would bite your own ass, very very hard, my ass being unavailable to you for this purpose.
Sincerely,
She Who Does Not Want A Reference Letter
Somehow I think Rabbitch has had experience with this.
The cashmere goodness is progressing. I'm on the second repeat of the cable pattern.
I have a friend who is looking for an Aran sweater to knit with an underarm measurement of 50". She was looking at Rogue but it only goes to 48". Alice Starmore patterns (I do own Aran Knitting having purchased it when it was new at $35) only go up to 38". She doesn't like the men's sweaters. Ideas?
posted by itgirl at 8:56 PM
3 Comments:
I may have had an experience or two with ... um ... uncomfortable work situations and the joyous exiting therefrom.
What gave you the first clue?
Signed,
she missing a reference or two
When he starts in, you should just raise your hand in front of his face and say, "Stop right there, I DO NOT want to hear it" and then get up and leave (even if he's in your office.) No point in having to put up with that crap, especially at this juncture. Hope your references come through soon.
Wow, you rock, Rebecca! I knew that this would probably be pretty hard, unless someone reading was familiar with Borges ... I came across this recently while re-reading some of my old Spanish Lit, and decided to work it for myself, the spaz double-personality knitter that I am ... :) http://knittingat5337.blogdrive.com
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