Resignation
If you're gonna go out, go out with style.


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 ground 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 "favourites 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 favourably 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 f*** with your systems administrators, because they know
what you do with all your free time.

Sincerely,
Ted Brewer