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Could be someone I know, someone I don't know, fictional characters, dead people. I don't care, I'm an equal opportunity complainer when it comes to complete dickwads.

Wherever there's a Complete Tool, I'll follow closely behind with my anonymous bitching. 'Cuz that'll show 'em.

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Sunday, September 19, 2010

If At First You Don't Succeed....

WARNING: Regardless of what you've read here in the past, I'm normally not a hateful asshole.  The following post comes from one of the darkest corners of my heart and, as horrible as it is, I mean every dark, spite-filled word of it.

Dear EmployeeVonMunchausen:

For the past three years, I've had to put up with some craziness from you that would try the patience of a Buddhist monk. For starters, you're a liar.  I don't want to hear any more about the 40,000 medical conditions that your 60,000 doctors are currently testing you for.  There's nothing wrong with you that couldn't be fixed very easily with some in-patient time in a mental ward.

Please stop trying to tug on my heartstrings with fake stories about being diagnosed with cancer.  Your claim of the dreaded "C" word came at a time when you knew you were in line for a disciplinary discussion.  That is the lowest way that any of my employees have tried to get out of a written warning.  How dare you spit in the faces of people who are sincerely struggling with this deadly illness.  Take responsibility for your actions like a grown up.

Anyone who thinks that's harsh: she magically didn't have cancer anymore once a) we administered the warning even after her tearful claim; b) she called Human Resources to verify that we, indeed, had the right to put her on a warning; and also consider c) the kind of cancer she supposedly had changed more frequently than her underpants.  Now, if you thought that was harsh....

For three years, I've heard all about your depression.  I've heard countless numbers of times about your feelings of overwhelming sadness.  You've even expressed a few times that you've thought about suicide.  The first year, I was shocked and saddened.  I referred you to our employee assistance hotline who put you in touch with a counselor.  The second year, I highly recommended that you step up your periodic visits to a counselor or see an actual therapist.  You did, for a little while.  This year, I'm just ignoring you.

You know what your life means to you.  The decision to live or die is yours, just as your decision to continue to live in misery for no reason is yours.  If you have decided that your life is worthless and you don't deserve good experiences, then you are beyond my help or advice.  Your claims of overwhelming sadness and cries for help are not my problem or my responsibility.  I will not try to fix you and I no longer pity you.  You mope around making depressing statements about yourself and your life and you expect everyone else to lift you up.  You are a happiness leech and I despise you for using us.

Now, you're on an intermittent leave (can call in any damn time she chooses) for "psychological reasons".  I know why and MisManager knows why.  The rest of the staff has been very unaware of the exact nature of your latest dependability issues.  MisManager and I prefer to keep it that way.  Apparently though, because you're no longer able to get the responses you need from us, you've moved on to your coworkers.  This is unacceptable.

The other day you called in, crying.  You don't have to tell me what's wrong anymore and, believe me when I say, it's a relief not to get spoon-fed horseshit.  When you came back in the next day, you thought it was appropriate to slip a note to Jailbait that said:

I didn't come in to work yesterday because I tried to kill myself.
He's a 20-year old kid, who I'm sure has not had to deal with the likes of this in his life.  It took that poor boy 6 hours to finally decide to come forward and say something to us.  He feels responsible for you now.  I know this was your intended result and I hate you for it.  I hate you with every ounce of emotion that I can stomach wasting on you.

Try to end your life or don't, but don't you think for one minute I'm going to allow you to emotionally terrorize anyone else on my staff you stupid sack of shit.

Very sincerely,



*mary* said...

I started a slow clap in my head at the end of that post.

-Survivor of one too many psychic vampires

Awesomeness said...

Thanks Mary.

After 3 years of this, I'm just tired. I'm dealing with it again today, so that should be fun. I'm going to see if someone from Human Resources will yell at her.

I doubt it, but it's worth a shot. If that doesn't work, I'm going to pull a dirty move and forewarn the rest of her coworkers.

It's not ethically appropriate, but she's forcing me into it. She needs to burden a psychiatrist with this, not her coworkers.