I got my little revenge on you today, at last. I quit my job.
I went into the office to hand in my resignation letter and to explain why I was leaving. I had everything prepared for you. I was going to keep it strictly professional and I was going to keep my cool. I even went so far as to ask that you be in the office today to meet me at 9a.m when the doors opened… and guess who decided not to show up to work, for the ten trillionth time? You… my former boss.
I spoke to the second in command instead and I left my letter on your desk. I was walked out, as expected.
You know, calling you “my boss” was really giving you too much credit. If I could name you anything above the puss in butt pimples, you were more like a security camera. You were anything but someone that one could possibly open up to.
Please, don’t send me texts about how “hurt” and “shocked” you are by my leave. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly human and “sad” to see me go. Don’t tell me that I’M the one who “created a gap” in your adorable little fun farm with my leave. Don’t tell me you have to actually GO INTO WORK FOR THE NEXT FEW WEEKS and work oh so “hard” to find a replacement? The horror, muffin…
Haha. Honestly? I’m not sorry for leaving. I’m not sorry for “what I did” to you today. The “gap” you claim I created? I hope it sucks you right in. I’m glad you’re feeling nervous and I’m glad you’re angry. I’m glad it annoys you that I haven’t replied to a single text of yours today. I’m glad you have to scramble. And I’m glad you’re finally being honest.
I’m glad I brought out the very worst in you today for the rest of them to see, and I’m glad I didn’t even have to say an actual word to you to do it. I hear two more people there are now considering handing in their own notices after you apparently caused quite a verbal storm against me in the workplace. Vengeance is mine. And I enjoy the vision of you drowning in the waves that are yet to come.
What’s adorable is you actually think I care if you hold (sorry, “forget”) yet another cheque of mine, this time as punishment under the guise of a postage inconvenience. Keep it. Your money is ash. Your promises are muck. Your name is dust.
Out of all the very, VERY few bridges I have ever burned in my young life, yours will be one that will go happily unmissed and unsung.
And THAT is what kills you.
I’m keeping this satisfying feeling with me for just a short while. Probably just until tomorrow. As vicious as I may appear through these ugly words, and as much as I mean them in this glorious moment, they are just a tiny fraction of me. I’m actually quite awesome to be around. Not that you’ll ever know.
I’m moving on to better and more beautiful things. And I’m leaving you to tend the flames of my exit.