buddhabee
25th May 2006, 20:00
An actual letter sent by a p!ssed off employee at Zantex Computers, US. to
his boss. His boss resigned very soon afterwards.
Mr. Baker,
As an employee 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 round squirrel.
After your consistent and annoying harassment of myself and my co-workers
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 about Unix, 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.
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.
1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal 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 mothers
b-day", 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 ketchup 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 mess with your systems administrators, because they know what you do with all your free time.
Sincerely,
his boss. His boss resigned very soon afterwards.
Mr. Baker,
As an employee 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 round squirrel.
After your consistent and annoying harassment of myself and my co-workers
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 about Unix, 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.
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.
1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal 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 mothers
b-day", 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 ketchup 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 mess with your systems administrators, because they know what you do with all your free time.
Sincerely,