Dear Boss,
Given that I’ve been working for you for a while now, I think it’s time for me to share with you my list of grievances in hopes that your Neanderthal behavior will spontaneously evolve to catch up with the 21st century in the year to come.
First, HR tells me that I should call you my “manager”, but let’s face it, you couldn’t manage a 3rd grader’s bake sale on your best day. If they’re referring to “micro-manager”, then yes, I might be able to get on board with that term. It definitely seems fitting when you cram my inbox with busy work on Friday at 4:46pm and pop your head in my office at 4:56pm to see if I’ve finished it.
The truth is, what I’m really working on is building an arc to stay afloat above the torrential flood of paperwork that somehow seems to overflow into my office when you leave early to “meet with clients”. Let’s stop pretending — we both know that “meet with clients” just means you’re continuing your life-long pursuit of discovering the perfect combination of beer and witty repartee with your other boss friends on the golf course. And if you wouldn’t interrupt me while you’re here during the day to get an update on my progress every fifteen minutes, I might actually be able to sail my newly constructed arc home before 8pm once in a while.
At the same time, there’s nothing “micro” about how you find an odd sense of satisfaction in blaming me when something goes awry in our department. Apparently, you must be rubber and I must be glue, because you’ve made upper management think that every problem sticks to me that bounces off you. Yet, if they knew that the minuscule size of your brain has had doctors puzzled since you were born, they would quickly realize that it was actually my idea that saved the company millions of dollars last year, even if the fancy plaque that ended up on your wall says otherwise.
In addition, I don’t think the term “micro” can be used to describe how you address me in team meetings like the slow kid in school who hasn’t learned to read yet. Don’t for one second think you could go head to head with me in an IQ test and score any higher than a crustacean. In fact, I once heard that you failed the Myers-Brigg test because it didn’t have the right letters to describe your personality type as a D I C K.
Therefore I’ve chosen the term “boss” for you. It seems appropriate in that it has a sort of negative connotation. It’s almost synonymous with “bully”, yet it’s better because it has two “s’s” which reminds me of the hissing sound a snake makes. I think we’re really getting somewhere with this.
Being that you’re my bosssss, I’d like to respectfully inform you that I no longer wish to be called names such as “Sport” or “Skipster” or “L-dog”. Not in my office, in meetings or when you purposefully track me down at the office holiday party to discuss impending deadlines. If you’re going to do that from now on, please remember to smack me on the ass as well so at least I’ll have an excuse to complain to HR.
Speaking of HR, maybe you could get a few helpful tips from them about how to break the news that our whole department is having to take salary cuts to get through these hard times. If you would finally enroll to have the elective surgery that removes your head from your ass, then you’d clue into the fact that driving up in your brand new Porsche is not exactly the morale booster we need to embrace our shrinking paychecks.
Plus, I’d like to be crystal clear at this time that I am not your indentured servant. True, my microscopic paycheck may indicate that I am paying off a 17th Century debt bondage, but I assure you that I am not. You don’t own me and I don’t appreciate being exploited like cheap labor. Last time I checked the Constitution, slavery was abolished in the U.S. about 150 years ago and there’s no need to pretend like we’re staging a historical reenactment every day in the office.
Lastly, I want to point out that you have repeatedly said in our group meetings that there’s no “i” in “team”, but you’re actually mistaken. I found the “i” and it’s right there underneath the A-hole.
i-in-team
At this time, I’d like to buy a vowel for you. I’d like an “A” please.
In fact, I’d like to buy two, because I guess the term “manager” is more fitting after all.
i-in-manager
Glad we got to clear those things up.
Sincerely,
Your faithful employee
