A tale of two letters
Monday, January 31, 2011
For those who don't know, I hate my job. It's a terrible place to work, my boss is a jerk, and I really just don't like the work I'm doing. I am obviously not a sales person and I'm OK with that. I'm a creative person. I like that part of me a lot.
On Friday I had a long meeting with my bosses who told me to take the weekend and decide if I really want to pursue this field and to let them know on Monday. They have two seasoned sales veterans starting on Tuesday and have seen what that can do to someone who is new and struggling in the industry and wanted to give me advance notice that my life is about to get a whole lot more difficult.
Basically, it was quit or get fired a week or two later. Since I've despised the job since my first day, there was no question what my decision would be.
Naturally, I feigned uncertainty, saying I really had no idea which option I would choose, and that I would discuss it with my husband over the weekend.
As I was leaving Friday evening, I packed up everything at my desk and took it home with me (talk about lucky that I had the car on Friday and didn't have to bus it!), so if there was any wonder regarding my decision before 5pm, there sure shouldn't have been after that!
I am going in this morning to give my formal resignation. Yes, I could email (since that's how they communicated with me, requesting an interview, offering me the job, etc, etc.), but I want to do the right thing and quit on my terms. So I wrote my resignation letter this morning.
And then I wrote another one. The one I'd really like to give him. There is no doubt that I will give him the first one, but man oh man is it tempting to give him the second one:
Dear (name goes here):
This is my formal notification that I am resigning from (company name goes here) as Advertising Account Manager. Friday, 28 January 2011 will have been my last day of employment.
As I have no passion for sales, I would like to ensure that there will be a space at (company name) for someone who does, who will in turn continue to help your company grow to the amount of success it deserves as you come upon your tenth year of business. I appreciate the opportunities I have been given here and I wish you much success in the future.
(my full name)
Dear (name goes here),
You are an A-hole. You are verbally abusive, rude, perverted, and you have no management skills. You do not know how to motivate your staff, your language is atrocious and unprofessional, and like the man you fired two weeks ago, you also do not see yourself as the problem (trust me—you are!). Deciding to work for you was a huge mistake, and like you always say, “I’d rather have sex with a cactus.”
I do not believe you understand that women have different bodily functions than men, and I find your complaints about my frequent trips to the restroom during my monthly cycle to be completely unfounded. Your request that I be “more of a bitch” to potential clients works against my belief system, and your use of profanity during performance reviews makes me realize just how badly you need a performance review yourself.
Having your office cleaned less than once a month is, I’m sure, against health codes. Talking about female anatomy and sex in the office is not the best subject of conversation during your Christmas lunch. It is also incredibly unprofessional to complain about all of your previous employees. (Yes, most of them quit—if you looked in the mirror, could you blame them?) Complaining about your current staff (who are sitting 20 feet away and can hear you!) to other staff members is unacceptable and inappropriate.
As a parting gift, I really wanted to get you a book of non-cliché and non-metaphor sayings, as you don’t know how to speak more than a sentence without using at least two, but as you regularly state that you know everything, I felt the dollars I was underpaid while working for you, despite your regular rantings how well we are paid in publishing compared to other places, would have been wasted.
I know I should include some positive comments, but I should keep this short as you find my feminine voice “high and offensive” and I don’t want you to have to hear it in your head as you read this. Also, I am following your guidelines for, as you call it, “the sh!t sandwich. I’m not gonna give you the nice complimentary bread, cos that’s not who I am. I don’t do nice, I don’t play good cop. Nice doesn’t help you get better. I’m just gonna give you the sh!t. Sometimes you just need a bucket of cold water in the face.”
With that being said, I quit. You can take the “steel toe boots you wear to kick ass” and shove them up your own! You are a very mean, miserable man and I pity the woman your son marries as he has a very poor example of what a man should be to follow.
PS. Your logo is hideous! I’m so embarrassed for you. Thank goodness I never made it to the “get my own business cards” stage of my employment—I would have just burned them!
Ya, now that I re-read them, maybe I should give him the second letter. Although there's still so much I didn't mention (and I can't justify using five or six pages of ink on him to include everything else that made his company a terrible place to work).
(Boy, writing resignation letters can sure be tough.)