My Boss is a Jerk.

Dear Sucky Boss,

 

Don’t think I’m not onto you.  Your congenial, happy-go-lucky attitude is such a sham, and even if I’m the only one, I know that you do jack shit in the office. 

 

I hate that you’ve made me senior staff a year out of school without giving me any of the corresponding training or coaching.  It’s not fair to hold me up against veteran writers and tell me in front of the staff that I need to “kick it up a few notches.”  I did not apply for this position; you forced me into it.  And the kickbacks you received for coming in under budget? You know, for all those months you failed to hire anyone, then found a girl just out of law school, at the lowest paygrade, whose training falls largely on my desk?  Enjoy that money.  Or, better yet, put in a college savings plan.  You’ll need it, with all those bastard children running around.  Yup, I know all about them.  Know why?  I’m nice.  People talk to me.  People feel sorry for me, because I work for you.  I know all about how you knocked up a former editor, then left your wife and kids when your girlfriend got pregnant.

 

You treat me like shit.  I thank God every day that you are not my father.  My dad is my hero; he’s a role model of everything good and wonderful. 

 

I’m tired of working hard so that you can smile stupidly and get recognized.  You tell me to work harder, to do better, without demonstrating one iota of what that might possibly look like.  Count yourself lucky that I don’t follow your model, or our publication would be scrapped.  Would you still be calling my work “a low value stuff” if you knew what you’d be without it?

 

I’m not holding my breath that you’ll realize how valuable I really am.  You’ll be disappointed with me as long as I work for you.  You’ll be working there far longer than I will, however, which is strangely consoling.  I can’t WAIT for the day I can tell you I’m out.

 

Till then, I remain,

Your tired-of-being-walked-on employee.

 

P.S.  You shouldn’t leave the ringer on your iPhone on so loud when you’re out of the office for 3-hour lunches.  I’ve wanted to smash its shiny screen in so badly, but have resisted because the constant ringing reminds the whole floor that you suck and are out of the office, again.  Don’t be surprised, however, if the ringtone changes from your obnoxious daughter’s “Hey Dad, answer the phone!” To “Hey Jackass, GO FUCK YOURSELF.” Preferably also in her voice.