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Dear Clueless Ex-Manager,

I just wanted to thank you for spreading the rumor that I was screwing another jewelry store’s manager. That made it so much easier for me to find a job after you fired me because I was selling twice as much as anyone else in the store (including you).

I just wanted to let you know that I was sleeping with my co-worker…the only male in the store. Remember that afternoon that you thought he came over to help me “move furniture” on his lunch hour and wondered why he came back so sweaty? Wonder no more. And yes, we screwed on the clock.

Your Faithful Employee

P.S. You really should think about having those carpets cleaned. Especially by the watch counter.

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Does tardiness somehow lessen IQ?

How is it that people, ostensibly SMART people, can apparently be completely and utterly incapable of calculating their transit time in order to arrive somewhere AT THE APPOINTED TIME?

I mean honestly, if an iPod-listening, frowning and non-watch wearing teenager can get himself, his hair and his too-baggy pants into a community meeting on time, how is it that a double-Masters PhD like you can’t even get to a client meeting on time, when that client comes from a culture where PUNCTUALITY IS A MUST?

Or why can’t you, the software uber-geek, used to working insane hours to meet an arbitrary project deadline which even you deride, can’t get his sorry ass across town to meet the supposedly most important person in your life ON TIME?

Let me be clear:

1) Making others wait because you can’t get yourself organized to arrive on time IS NOT OK. It shows a complete lack of respect for their time.

2) If you can get an MS or PhD, you can get the concept of transit time. Until we have beam-me-up-Scotty technology, you DO need to take this into account when planning your movements. DO IT. Constantly arriving late doesn’t make you look busy and important, it makes you look stupid.

3) Calling 5 minutes before you’re meant to be somewhere just to say you’re going to be 40 minutes late IS NOT OK. Have you ever considered that maybe the person you’re meeting has just juggled their entire schedule and workload and risked several collisions to make absolutely, positively sure they WOULD be there on time? You didn’t suddenly realize you weren’t going to make it five minutes ago, idiot, you knew that at least 35 minutes ago. Why didn’t you call then, you dumbass? See 2) above.

3) Repeating 3) over and over doesn’t make it any less annoying or inconsiderate, it makes it MORE so.

Tardiness is for morons, my friends. Don’t make think of you as one.

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Dear Painfully-Idiotic Coworker,

I would really like to know exactly how people like you are born. So I could put a nationwide ban on the procedure. Honestly, we’re going to be seniors in high school now, you’d think you could have absorbed a tad more knowledge than you actually have. Does it ever seem like a good idea to throw rocks at dogs? Does it? Because really it’s just going to make them pissed off and (hopefully) claw your eyes out and bite your arm off.

We work at a dog kennel, where there is ALWAYS work to be done. So while I slave away cleaning kennels does it seem the best idea to chat on your cell phone for a half an hour? Really, the more pressing question is: do you like getting bleach sprayed in your face?

And bossing me around when I’ve worked here a year longer than you and happen to have an IQ double yours is probably not a good plan, sweetheart. I didn’t get a 34 on the ACT to have you try and tell me how to give a dog a bath (which, by the way, you do poorly – I didn’t even think that was possible).

And another thing… I don’t think it’s a coincidence that half the dogs here growl at you as you walk past. Just saying, I don’t think it’s the dog that’s the problem and yelling at them to stop is definitely going to help. Oh definitely. Let me bow down to your amazing and ingenious tactics.

I’m Sorry St. Francis,
Laura

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Hey idiot,

What the hell, Mike? It’s not like you’re ever on time either, so shut your crap hole. Your son doesn’t do anything around here either (which is still better than you), so who fucking cares if he’s late? Really… shut… up. You probably have a gazillion price quotes to do, so get out of this room you lazy-ass old fart. Leave the support room… this is where the intelligent people sit.

It’s like the cool bench at school, except you’re so not cool that sitting anywhere on campus is too good for you. Get the hell out of here and do some work or just freaking retire you freaking moron. You really want to know why we’re losing clients? It’s because you’re a moron and you keep lying to them, making promises you can’t keep, insulting them, trying to explain things you can’t, failing to clearly explain things a 2 year old could, rambling on about how you want to change the world but can’t, making prejudice comments, offering them our services for free, and being so nice to the lead programmer here that he has never once felt inclined to listen to a single thing you’ve said.

About 10% of your ideas are good ones at best, but you don’t have the management skills to put their development into action – you own the damn company, for the love of potatoes, just tell your employees what you want them to do. Telling your son to pick up food from McDonald’s on the way because he’s already late is not managing your employees. It is, in fact, making your employee later. Why are you so incompetent?

Go away, and never come back. A vast vacuum of space could fill your seat more appropriately than you do. Frick off.

Richard

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Open letter to the girl they call Aman-DUH,

Ok, so I get it. You’re young, immature, wet behind the ears… whatever ridiculous euphemism you wish to inject here.But you’ve been at the company for almost a year and I honestly think, in that time, you have managed to get even dumber.

It seems like you should’ve gotten the hang of things by now, but each day, you continue to amaze me. Firstly, the cell phone. Honey, it’s gotta go. Nobody important is going to call you from 9am to 5pm, and honestly, we’re all a little sick of hearing your annoying Nickleback ring tone full blast every time your phone rings. Tell your friends you’ll call them back. You can set up your playdates on your own time.

Oh, and you know those things called titles, inspections, and insurance statements? Yeah, they’re kind of important. How about instead of talking on the phone/making baby shower invitations/flirting with the guys/playing on the internet, you consider making them a priority? Oh, and let’s try not losing them and blaming them on customers or other employees too, mmmkay?

The biggest thing I’d REALLY love for you to understand, however, is that Daisy Dukes and flip flops is not “work appropriate” attire. Just a hint – when everyone else is wearing khakis and business casual clothes, it’s not cool for you to look like you’re heading off to the beach. This isn’t Billy Bob’s Smoke, Video, and Bait Shop. I like to think that customers expect a little bit more from us. I don’t think you want to give a customer a full moon when you bend over to get their title out of the file cabinet. Or maybe you do. Hell, I don’t know…

But, I try, I really do try not to just haul off and slug you right in the face in the name of complete and utter stupidity. And it’s obvious that you’re not going anywhere soon, because you’re cute/you flirt/the boss doesn’t want to hurt your feelings/he doesn’t want to have to train somebody else/he wants to sleep with you, or whatever reason you are still working for the company.

Anyways, I will continue to burrow my resentment, pasting on my fake smile and pretending I’m interested in what you have to say, because after all, what difference does it make? We’re all in this together…

With love, Amy

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Dear Cube-Neighbor,

Get some Beano! Do you think no one can hear you farting as you walk into your cube?! It’s gross!!

Love,
Grossed-Out

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Isabeau,  a PhD. candidate in Punishment

10) She’s one of those touchy-feeling types who gets her twat out of whack if you don’t greet her properly and enthusiastically each morning like a little puppy. (Note: This is impossible after dragging my ass in after drinking all night)

9) Her lunch is exactly the same, every day: cup of fat-free strawberry yogurt, container of calcium-enriched orange juice and a small bag of Pretzels.

8) If she doesn’t have written, step-by-step instructions, she is completely unable to use her computer, digital camera, fork, etc. Worse, she expects me to write these instructions for her.

7) She wears elastic waist pants.

6) She consistently mispronounces the word “October” as “Ogdober.”

5) The hand lotion she uses smells like a nursing home.

4) Anxiety is her middle name. Her knob is always set to “Freak Out.” Luckily, I keep my phaser set to “Stun.”

3) One glass of wine gets her completely sauced.

2) She has a crew cut, and she is not a lesbian.

1) She should NOT be my boss. I am pursuing a Ph.D. — she is pursuing her head up her butt.

Rantasaurus Says: Now, I don’t exactly see exactly why strawberry yogurt is offensive. My lunch of rotting, smelly carrion? I can see that being offensive, but pretzels?

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