Friday, June 18, 2004


Dear Employer,

I’ve been your docile, acquiescing fuck-tool for far, far too long. No more.

Explain this one to me, if you can see through the fog of your own muddy, self-serving thoughts: First up, I had my appraisal almost two months ago now. To refresh our collective memories, here is the outcome of that appraisal: 74% on my ability to do my job, and 82% for my aptitude and abilities as an employee generally. Pretty good by any measure of what “good” is.

And it was stated that I was only marked down for gaps in my experience and knowledge, gaps that existed long before I took on my current role (and weren’t an issue then), and gaps that the company has taken absolutely no steps to help me fill, despite assurances in the past that I would receive adequate training. Oh, and I was marked down for consistent lateness as well. I work in the centre of London at the mercy of public transport! Who ISN’T consistently late?

While I’m on the subject of my ability to carry out my duties as an employee, let’s clarify one more thing. I’m not an I.T. specialist. Never have been. Don’t want to be. I joined this company, because it was a PUBLISHING company. My background is editorial. Over four years of editorial experience: writing, editing, running company websites, published journalist (and, I might add, my words have been read more widely than ANYTHING this company has squeezed out of its corporate cornhole. FACT.), sub-editor, proofreader, and on and on. I’ve been shunted away from the areas at which I excel into areas that I do not, and will not, ever be an expert in. I would also contend, without a shred of false modesty, that I am far more expert in areas of editorial prowess than ANY SINGLE ONE of the people this company laughably refer to as “Editors”. Maybe this is subjective, but I’m ranting, so work with me here.

As an employer, you refuse to play to my strengths, and make no attempts to help me in improving on my weaknesses. And fuck you for that.

At the end of my appraisal, I was informed that I would not receive a pay rise because it could not be “justified” at the time. Strangely, you manage quite easily to justify having me work for twelve days in a row without any kind of reward. Or any demonstration of gratitude, for that matter. Interesting to note that I am the ONLY person appraised so far this financial year that has NOT been given a pay rise. I guess that must have been easier to justify.

The main reason given was the company’s lack of profitability. The company has NEVER been profitable and NEVER will. Fair enough, it is not your problem that I have a mortgage, a wife and a child on the way. Having said that, it is most certainly not my fucking problem that this company can’t make money.

Which neatly segues into my next point: “Sales” people. Sales people??? HAH! These people make far more than me as a basic salary for doing little to nothing on a daily basis. And on top of that, of course, is their commission for NOT meeting their monthly targets. Someone is going to have to explain this bizarre reward system to me.

Want to hear something funny? Shortly after my wife found out she was pregnant, she was fired. They won’t tell her why. They refuse. Legal action has been taken, but that doesn’t put food on the table or heat in the house. Her employers must think that Nature is Wrong. Procreation is Wrong. Propogating the species is Wrong. Creating Life is Wrong. Someone better tell God that he’s made a mistake. Babies are a genetic aberration that should result in punishment. How silly of us not to realise that before. The scales have fallen from my eyes and I’m enlightened once more. Thank you thank you thank you.

What else? I was told that I must “own” my role more, take control of it. Bullshit! Every attempt at initative is frowned upon, my decisions and opinions are uniformly ignored or overruled, and I always, always, always end up doing menial tasks that are fucking beneath me. I’m sick and tired of being micro-managed. If you want me to take control, then leave me the fuck alone to do it, instead of treating me like your fucking skivvy.

I should staple your eyelids to your forehead, squat over you and shit into your eyes to corrode them out of their fucking sockets. No doubt this missive will wash over you like piss in a scat movie, and your mind will wander once again onto who will be evicted from the Big Brother house this evening, and whether or not you need to plant another Ingerland flag on the back of your car. Fuck you for making it harder for me to find a new job. Fuck you for sending me further into debt. Fuck you for taking precious time away from my life. Fuck your ancestors, fuck your family, fuck your unborn progeny and Fuck You.

Yours with a crumpled and bleeding rectum,

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