2 posts tagged “boss”
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.
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 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:
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.
After a horrendous day at work (to rephrase, "Dear boss, I think you're a fuckrag.") - I drove home in a slight rage. I even bleeped my horn at an elderly lady who was driving 30mph in a 40 zone (well for fuck's sake - some of us have to get home to our wine).
And then, as I flipped the radio over to Radio 1 (on offchance, because I hate Radio 1) - Greenday's Basket Case was playing.
I was reminded of being fifteen, kissing my (then)boyfriend in his parent's garage - and swearing that I would never change. I thought I would always have black dyed hair, wear hoodies with inappropriate words on. That I would always have boyfriends who treated me like dirt, and worst of all - that I would never be good enough for anyone 'better'.
I have changed. Back then, even at fifteen - I was a doormat. It wasn't that I was naieve, or 'too young to know better'. I was quite simply a doormat.
And now?
Well, today I told my boss that his lack of flexibility and poor attitude was about to lose him a member off staff that clients have referred to as "an asset to the company." I reduced an account manager to a gibbering mess, after verbally beating the crap out of him for using the phrase "Can I speak to the real person in charge of IT?" - and subsequently saying "Oh sorry, you can hardly blame me for thinking you're a receptionist! I've never seen an IT girl who wears blouses* - I just assume all geeky girls are lesbians!"
*(For the record my blouse was a chocolate brown sheer shirt, with tiny white polka dots, rouching at the back, a ribbon tie at the front and cute little mushroom buttons. It is not a fucking blouse. It is a beautiful shirt, and I love it dearly. ...Plus, my tits look great in it.)
Am I a bitch? Yes, actually. But only when it's deserved. And quite frankly, I like who I am now. At fifteen (give or take a few years), I did many things simply because I wanted to be liked, to fit in. I had a large group of friends, and sucession of boyfriends - and I was close to no one. Now, I have a partner who (mostly, bearing in mind that he is, afterall, a man!) understands me. I have very few friends, but the ones I do have are real friends. I have cut ties with the sucession of (ex)boyfriends that I was clinging to. Best of all, I genuinely don't care what anyone thinks. I behave politely, and I respect other people's feelings - I'm not reckless, but I speak my mind and I stand up for what I believe in.. Myself.
I'm fully aware that my boss thinks I'm mouthy and outspoken. But I am not disrespectful - I speak the truth and that's what he disliked. He picked the wrong girl to try and manipulate, and very slowly - he's starting to realise that he may just have met his match.
You see - he might be a stubborn control freak. But I spent a lot of years as a doormat. And hell hath no fury like a woman who's been walked all over.
