*drops the mic*

...speaks for itself...

I've had to make some really tough decisions in my life. They were the kind that I dreaded making, the kind for which I ran every possible scenario through my head before making them. I prayed about them, sought counsel on them... I worried and stressed about these decisions and their consequences until everything that had to do with them had resolved itself or just simply blown ever.

On the other hand, I've had to make choices that took a split second to decide. Sure, I probably had to drink think my way through them. But the process wasn't nearly as long or painstaking as those mentioned above. As a matter of fact, the result of these decisions was downright liberation. I can't say that all these decisions could be considered the best thing that ever happened to me, but I can truly say that when it came time to make those choices, I didn't have any reservations or regrets. Below, I shall describe one of my most memorable moments.


Quitting my last job.

 I knew I was leaving my last job around September/October of 2009. My boss knew this too but because I hadn't actually said it to him, he couldn't do anything about it or mention it to HR or his boss, the Big Boss. Instead, he started passive aggressively hounding me about it, even going so far as to announce in a staff meeting , "I know everyone is overworked around here and once I get a letter of resignation from Ashley, I can move forward in finding her replacement so that none of you have to take on any additional responsiblities." *side eye*. Despite his proclamation, he was not the least bit concerned with anyone's workload, rather he was itching to cancel my registration for the November national conference in D.C. so he could use my travel money to send himself to some golf tournament in Mexico finance workshop in San Antonio. Incensed, I promptly stalked off to type up my notice.

 It was exactly two weeks until November. At this point, we were not on the best of terms (he had taken genuine offense to the fact that I was leaving even though he was well aware that I couldn't stand him) and I knew he wanted to get me out quick and dirty and was planning to "strongly encourage" me to use up my vacation on those days so he could clear out my office and screw me out of an extra check of unused vacation pay. Considering all these factors, I carefully crafted a letter that I felt would professionally yet accurately convey my true feelings, but not burn any bridges in case I had to cross back that way again. I also thought very carefully about my actual resignation date. While it is customary to give two weeks, it's not mandatory and since my next job wouldn't start for a few months, I did want to at least do as much for my co-workers before I left. Finally, I finished my letter, ran a quick spell check, and then went off to print it on our nice letterhead. With my head held high, I marched into my boss' office, placed the letter on the desk in front of him and waited patiently there for him to read it.

My letter:

October 16, 2009

Dear Douche Bag,

It is with much zeal and glee that I write this letter of resignation. I have learned many valuable lessons about how not to be a fucking idiot and embarass everyone that is ever known me simply by being alive.

My last day of work will be *wait for it*  JANUARY 4, 2010 BITCH! This gives me enough time to go piss on the Washington Monument and buy expensive cocktails on DuPoint Circle with my per diem, and then kick my feet up and do nothing more than create jib jab cartoons of you wearing lingerie and singing showtunes on the company computer until Christmas break. At which point, I can officially say good riddance to you and your rusty ass office all while still getting another full check AND unused vacation since technically, I'll still be employed by this janky establishment through next year. How's that for savvy budgeting?

So, in conclusion, concerning your idea that not only would you get rid of me on your own terms but also leave me broke and screw me out of the reparations due me for having to listen to your miserable stories about how your bestfriend's wife won't let him play "pet the monkey" with you and strange rashes between your toes?

FUCK YOU. PAY ME.

Sincerely,

Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is HOV, ni**a!

AG

*pops collar, drops mic, and exits*

I could hear the crumpling of paper behind me right before his door slammed. I knew an enraged called would be made to HR before I could even get back to my own office. I also knew that I had just set myself up for a new level of undocumentable torture, but it didn't matter. I had just seen my boss's face turn the color of a baboon's butt as I screwed him in the ass with one of his federally funded golf clubs.

Regardless of the consequences that would indeed follow in the coming days, I can honestly say, NOT A SINGLE FUCK WAS GIVEN THAT DAY.