Dear Mr. Bossman,

As a graduate of an institution of 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 myself 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 to explain every little nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my area is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired because I know how to please customers in an efficient and courteous manner, and you were apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "small fries" for the hundredth time.

You will never understand the food industry. Something as incredibly simple as coffee 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 a BLT is. Your shiny new wrist watch 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 couple 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. When you borrowed my 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.

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of recommendation on my doorstep 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.

Wishing you a grand and glorious day,
Sheri

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