Dear Mr. Baker,
As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have
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
co-workers and me during our commission of duties, I can only
surmise that you are one of the few true genetic wastes of our
Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every 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 your employees,
who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "cut
and paste" as it is explained to you for the hundredth
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 wander around the building all day, shiftlessly seeking
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.
Seeing as 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:
When someone calls you in reference to employment, it
is illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation as
I have consistently performed my duties and even more. The
most you can say to hurt me is, "I prefer not to
comment." To keep you honest, I will have friends
randomly call you over the next couple of years, because
I know you would be unable to do it on your own.
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 will publish your
"Favorites," which I conveniently saved when
you made me "back up" your useless files. I
do believe that terms like "Lolita" are not
viewed favorably by the university administrations.
When you borrowed the digital camera to "take pictures
of your mother's b-day," you neglected to mention
that you were going to take nude pictures of yourself
in the mirror. Then, like the techno-moron you are, you
forgot to erase them. Suffice it to say, I have never
seen such odd acts with a ketchup bottle. I assure you
that those photos are being kept in safe places pending
your authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation.
(And, for once, would you please try to use spellcheck?
I hate correcting your mistakes.)
I expect the letter of recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am
tomorrow. One word of this to anybody and all of your twisted
little repugnant obsessions will become public knowledge. Never
f*ck with your systems administrator, Mr. Baker! They know what
you do with all that free time!