That line has been running through my head all day. Two weeks ago I gave notice at the place where I have been employed for the last three and a half years. In the Internet industry, that means I am tenured. A senior member of the staff. An old-timer. "Michelle? She has been here for ages."
My announcement has not yet received a surprised reaction from anyone. We have a grand tradition of people running out the door on their way to greener grass and 401(k) matching, each departing with a heartfelt good-bye email.
"I will miss each and every one of you."
"I have learned so much in my time here and am sad to go."
"My experiences here have been invaluable. I can't thank you all enough for making my time here such a pleasure."
What a load of crap. Although I am tempted to send an email with one simple message - Suck it! - I don't want to burn any bridges. I may have to come crawling back when my new employer finds out I have few skills and a poor work ethic. My adios email will likely contain a humorous comment and my contact information, disappointing myself and everyone else who expects more out of me. Still, the temptation is strong, my resistance is weak, and I cannot deny the urge to bid a spiteful adieu:
Dear Work Friends, Asshats, Suck-ups, and Other Co-workers,
I will miss five or six of you. I am indifferent to quite a few of you and the rest, well, I can honestly say that I hate you with the seething rage of a hundred unpaid hookers. What really irritates me about you is that you don't know what a dick you really are. For the sake of those I leave behind who must continue to endure your inconsiderate, asinine behavior, I write this letter with the hope that seeing your transgressions listed here will shame you into making some changes. The chances of this happening are slim, but it will hurt you more than it hurts me and I can at least take pleasure in that.
To the guy who conveniently hauls out his religion on holidays: You are the biggest asshole I have ever known. If you dare show up at my going away happy hour tonight, I will smack your smug face so hard that your yellowed teeth will go flying. By the way, I found out that you were on a "performance plan" with HR and told everyone.
To the teeny tiny bitch who keeps getting promoted: Every idea you have had at this company has tanked, which leads me to believe that the blowjobs you are handing out must be truly stellar. Well done, you.
To the contractor who recently started: It is apparent by your bluffing and your defensive reaction to even the most casual question that you don't think that you are qualified for this job. You are right.
To the smarmy, bug-eyed weasel with the new baby: I am surprised you didn't get canned in that first big layoff. I remember fondly the time that you had to kiss my ass after first mistaking me for a peon and treating me like shit. Seeing you grovel before me is one of my happiest memories here and for that I thank you. Your baby looks like a potato.
To the MBA with no actual skills (to narrow it down, you are the only one who doesn't wear the khaki pants/blue shirt uniform of business school): Whenever we have a meeting and we need an example of someone who not only can't do their job but is a pain in the ass to work with, we use you. I would think that if there was one thing to learn in business school, it was that you don't want to be the case study for failure. Your bitterness seeps from your pores and taints everything you do.
To the smokers: I am sure you will die a painful, choking death. You stink the place up and have the nerve to get offended when I say that non-smokers should get an extra week of vacation to compensate us fairly for all the time you waste standing outside.
To the nasty Ops girls who sit in my area: The women's bathroom on this side of the building has become truly disgusting since you moved in. Flush twice, wash your hands, and lay off the laxatives you stick figures.
To the well-meaning mom type: I know that you are really a very nice person, but please learn how to take cues about ending the conversation. For instance, when someone walks away from you, he doesn't want you to follow. When someone continues typing without looking at you as you try to have a conversation over the cube wall, she doesn't want to hear it. If you ask me one more time when I am going to have a baby, I will snatch your beady little eyes right out of your head with my staple remover.
And, finally, to the executive management: Those skanks from The Apprentice could do a better job than you.
To the drama queen: If you "reply to all" on this email and include one those freaking animated smileys, I will mow you down in the parking lot on the way to happy hour.