Wednesday, August 11, 2004

An Open Letter to My Future Employer

Where are you? I've been sitting for almost two weeks now, waiting for you to rescue me. Now I don't mean to be the old-fashioned kind of girl that needs rescuing, but really I do. The Three Days Grace song "Just Like You" is the only thing keeping me sane (I could be mean, I could be stupid, you know I could be just like you. (...) You thought you were there to guide me, you were only in my way.) Really, my state of mind is only expected to go downhill from here.

I sent you my resume and really, I'm perfect for the job. Besides the fact that I have a pulse, I'm above average in talent and my friends think I'm kind of fun to be around. And if this helps any, I'm also known for having big boobs.

Did that get your attention? I really hope so. I'm no longer above mentioning my boobs to get a new job.

The people here don't treat me so well and I have absolutely no authority, despite the title on my business card saying otherwise. Last night, I was here until 8 p.m. waiting for a coworker to proof a plan of mine. She was constantly getting called in by the president into her office to chat. I was screaming so loudly on the inside that I swear I felt my skin tear. This went on for almost 30 minutes. All I was waiting on were the final ten slides of the presentation so that I could leave.

But just when I was finally able to get out of this hellhole, I still had to drive out of my way to drop off the plan at the VP's house. Why you say when the world has given us email and fax machines (which we have one of those at the office and wouldn't you know it, the VP has one at home) would I need to drive a plan to someone?

Simply because they have the power to make stupid demands like that to guarantee that I get to spend a little less time with Sweetie Pie and a lot more time meeting their petty demands.

Yesterday, I was also told that I needed to drop everything to file my incoming and outgoing emails for one of our old clients. You see, I stupidly rolled my eyes at the policy of saving every email on the office's shared drive, instead being content to just save them in my perfectly good folders in my email system. Well, I violated the ways of the gods of anal processes and paid the price dearly by losing two hours of my day yesterday.

Considering my salary, I thought it was a massive waste of my time and money, but who even knows what sanity is anymore.

Dear future employer, if you would only hire me away from this place, I'd even be willing to go for a couple of thousand dollars less. At this point, I figure the years of therapy I will be requiring to erase these memories out of my head and rebuild my self-esteem will cost a lot more than the salary difference.

So what are you waiting for? Call me and I will give you my heart and my soul in exchange for a decent position where I can happily putter along and be challenged ever so often. Oh, also, I'm going to need a shorter commute, shorter hours, a better medical plan, full dental and vision and a great family leave plan. Oh yeah, and a great 401K program, none of that "we'll match 50% of 60% of your contributions, but only up to the first 3%." I won't stand for that anymore.

Love,

Catwoman

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