Letter of Resignation

Dear Mr. Boss,

As a graduate of an institution of higher education, I have
a few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my
direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the
common ground squirrel. After your consistent and annoying
harassment of my coworkers and me during the commission of
our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the few
true genetic wastes of our time.

Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little
nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll
into my office is not only a waste of time, but also a
waste of precious oxygen. I was hired because I know how to
network computer systems, and you were apparently hired to
provide amusement to myself and other employees, who watch
you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "cut and
paste" for the hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly
simple as binary still gives you too many options. You will
also never understand why people hate you, but I am going to
try and explain it to you, even though I am sure this will
be just as effective as telling you what an IP is. Your
shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will.

You walk around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for
fault in others. You have a sharp dressed useless look about
you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you
actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked
staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring
ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the
blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at.
Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle.
Since this situation is unlikely to change without you
getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to
tender my resignation, however I have a few parting thoughts.

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is
illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation. The most you
can say to hurt me is "I prefer not to comment." I will have
friends randomly call you over the next couple of years to
keep you honest, because I know you would be unable to do it
on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system,
and I know every password you have used for the last five
years. If you decide to get cute, I am going to publish your
"favorites list", which I conveniently saved when you made me
"back up" your useless files. I do believe that terms like
"Lolita" are not usually viewed favorably by the
administration.

3. When you borrowed the digital camera to "take pictures of
your Mother's birthday," you neglected to mention that you
were going to take pictures of yourself in the mirror nude.
Then you forgot to erase them like the techno-moron you
really are. Suffice it to say I have never seen such odd
acts with a sauce bottle, but I assure you that those have
been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of
a glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell
check please; I hate having to correct your mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of
recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word of
this to anybody, and all of your little twisted repugnant
obsessions will be open to the public. Never f*** with your
systems administrator. Why? Because they know what you do
with all that free time!

Wishing you a grand and glorious day,