A Letter of Resignation

To my boss

Regarding our amiable conversation this morning. I believe you mentioned that I arrived late. Oh, was I late this morning? Thank you for letting me know! Gosh, you’re useful. A talking human clock. So that’s why you get the big money. You can tell what the time is and when I arrive? How very informative. Thanks – thank you for telling me that I was late, as opposed to being on time, or early, or in outer space. Wow. The summit of human accomplishment, you are. Your logic circuits alone must weigh a ton. (Pity the wiring’s a bit rusty, but I suppose disuse will do that.)

More of the Same, Only Different.

The article by Vitriol McMalice last week set me thinking about work again. It’s been a while since I tackled that subject for africans – about as long as it’s been since I tackled my manager and fed him his own shit that I had yanked out of his asshole – so perhaps it’s time. Or perhaps it’s just started to annoy me again. Work, I mean; not my manager (he’s never stopped annoying me). This is surprising, considering how little work I end up doing. Sure, I get done what I need to in order to get by, but mostly that’s “just enough not to get fired”, as the great man Carlin once put it.

But why?

The question that arises – for me, anyway – is, how did it come to this?

REAL-WORLD MANAGEMENT STRATEGIES (As Opposed to the Crap You Tell Your Staff)

A book extract courtesy of Vitriol McMalice

This month’s extract comes from

Chapter 1: Dealing with staff requests.

Perils await the unwary manager around every corner...

One of the first things you will need to do as manager is to come up with a carefully designed procedure for dealing with staff requests. This is a complicated but necessary task, as inopportune and embarrassing staff requests can come in numerous forms and may arrive at your doorstep via many different forums. Thanks to the increased accessibility offered by e-mail, cell phones, PDAs, fax machines, and other state-of-the-art technologies, a new and challenging staff request lurks around every corner, seeking whomsoever an unwary manager it may devour. No longer safe in your office, thanks to ever-intrusive technology, your seclusion is under constant threat from selfish and inconsiderate subordinates clamoring for your attention, despite your indubitable superiority over them and the mundane matters with which they concern themselves.

Workplace Rampages for Dummies: Help Yourself to a Better Killing Spree

So okay. Maybe I’ve been a bit hard on everyone. I mean, why can’t we just be nicer to each other? Why all this aggression? Wouldn’t the whole world be a better place if we could just love one another, forgive each other our faults, and embrace one another’s foibles? Shouldn’t we learn from our mistakes, and the lessons that our inner children have to teach us? Why don’t we embrace the cheerful, innocent wonder of fairy tales, and animated movies where marvellously jolly animals, teapots, and other fabulous anthropomorphic critters of diminishing metaphysical probability sing sentimental ditties about moonlight, love, and magic? Wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t have to worry with all this finance nonsense, and if we removed any need for office conflict by simply doing away with offices altogether? Why don’t we forgive, forget, live, and learn, and create for ourselves a wondrous fairytale land of love? Why do we always need to think about the miseries around us? Why can’t we just free ourselves from such negativity and celebrate instead the wonders of life? For example, why don’t we leave this whole “money” business and just pay people in, well, hugs?

Why? Because if anyone even tried that with me, I’d fucking kill them.

Glory Be (To the Father of Malice)

Whew! For a while there, I thought I wouldn’t have enough vitriol left to write another article. After the way that last one ended, I though I was going to be forced to spend an entire day being all blissed-out and happy (relatively speaking): you know, appreciating the weather and the fact that the electricity hasn’t gone off yet. I was in a relatively good space, intellectually and emotionally. And if I’d never recovered my anger, I would no doubt be reduced to writing depressingly cheerful bullshit like “oh appreciate life” and “it’s going to be alright” and “what a wonderful world” – exactly the kind of schmaltzy bullshit that normally sends me into an apoplectic fit, like the sound of the Sound of Muzac.

Thank god for my boss.