Final straw?
As I crammed the remenants of a 'feel-better' giant vanilla slice into my mouth in my lunchbreak, I mentally planned out my letter of resignation.
Dear Boss.
You're a third rate wanker who deserves absolutely no respect and a great big smack in the face..
Shove your job up your backside.
Yours Sincerely,
Arcadia
You're a third rate wanker who deserves absolutely no respect and a great big smack in the face..
Shove your job up your backside.
Yours Sincerely,
Arcadia
I sucked the icing off my fingers and audibly sighed as I watched a stream of emails pour into my Outlook inbox.
I turned off the monitor, walked out onto the street and had a well deserved smoke. I leaned against against the cold brickwork, wind whipping my newly-straightened hair across my face, and four inch heels pinching my toes. Not one inch of me wanted to go back into that office. I like my job. But I despise my boss.. I mean, really, despise him.. Stomach-turning, teeth-sucking sort of hated. Posh little twat who went to business school and clearly did fuck all except shag dirty little tarts. He's everything I hate. He has worked for nothing, he doesn't know the value of anything. Including respect.
I wandered back to my desk, fully aware of what I wanted.
The printer sat on my desk whirred away, busy expelling a freshly printed letter. Which began:
It didn't say "Dear boss, you're a wanker.." But it laid out all my feelings, in a professional and concise manner.
It's not admitting defeat - it's taking action. And I haven't decided whether I'll hand the letter in or not.. But I do feel much better for writing it.
I turned off the monitor, walked out onto the street and had a well deserved smoke. I leaned against against the cold brickwork, wind whipping my newly-straightened hair across my face, and four inch heels pinching my toes. Not one inch of me wanted to go back into that office. I like my job. But I despise my boss.. I mean, really, despise him.. Stomach-turning, teeth-sucking sort of hated. Posh little twat who went to business school and clearly did fuck all except shag dirty little tarts. He's everything I hate. He has worked for nothing, he doesn't know the value of anything. Including respect.
I wandered back to my desk, fully aware of what I wanted.
The printer sat on my desk whirred away, busy expelling a freshly printed letter. Which began:
Dear Management,
As my contract requires, I hereby provide notice of my resignation.
As my contract requires, I hereby provide notice of my resignation.
It didn't say "Dear boss, you're a wanker.." But it laid out all my feelings, in a professional and concise manner.
It's not admitting defeat - it's taking action. And I haven't decided whether I'll hand the letter in or not.. But I do feel much better for writing it.
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