Last day

Today is the last day of a job I despise - yay!


Ok, not that interesting for the rest of you, but I had to tell someone.....

I trust you adhere to same protocol we do over here in such a situation.

Over here it is customary to show up late, drunk, wearing shorts and a tank top with a big bucket of fried chicken parts. You are also required to do nothing productive, make long distance phone calls and take a whiz in the break room sink.

Furthermore, some friends should show up around lunchtime with pizza and beer (a stripper is optional but recommended) blasting loud music that everyone can sing along with, including the co-workers you like enough to invite to join in on the fun.

Finally as your friends carry you out hours before quiting time, unload on every co-worker you didn't invite to the party, with your former boss being the last target.

I'm sure most of your co-workers are rejoicing as much as you are.

Believe me, you're closer than you think to the truth! By boss and I just didn't get on. He's a control freak whose style is vastly different from mine and I just felt I couldn't work in the way that I work best. I think he knew so too and so there will be no love lost when I go!

Well, I've already done the showing up late part and I'm planning on having a beverage or two during an extended lunch hour!

Yeah, I used to have a job like that and I'm basically after one in which I feel the same so that I can really do what I need to do!

Now begins your career smuggling black market crutches?

God, I just had to go through a dodgy leaving presentation. How does one stomach that when you hate your job!

Assuming you have another job lined up and no worries about burning bridges, you just unload the truth as you see it, and enjoy the silly, lemon-sucking expressions on their faces.

^ Well, I dcided to be polite. In my professiona you never know when you might need to rely on old contacts.

I'm curious; how much advance notice did you have to give that you were leaving?

^ My contract required a month, although I agreed an earlier departure so ultumately it was just over a week.

It would seem so.

Porn fluffer?

Dude.

Seriously.

Hurry up and propose to your girl.

You are now going to be a: fat, drunk, old, unemployed cripple. What are you going to do next? Contract AIDS?

I notice how Volpone says that last question with the heart smilie. Like you can almost sense, through the internet, his desire to spread his AIDS to El Chup.

I just fowarded this post to all my employees... along with a message that I would kick their asses clean off the top of their legs if they tried to pull somethig like this.

Um, I proposed the week before Xmas and she said yes, so................

Well git that ring on her, boy! Before she comes to her senses.

My all-time favourite 'leaving' story, which goes back damn near 25 years ago, now, involves a bloke on the rival local paper who got a job with the Daily Express (in those days, that was a career move, not an occasion for pity. )
Anyhoo, he'd had many run-ins with the editor's secretary. So on his last day, he walked into her office, took his hand from behind his back - holding a large breadknife - and slammed it into her desk.
'I found this in my back, I think it's yours'.
With that, he walked out, never to return.

Now, that's style!