Friday, January 20, 2006
best good-bye-letter. ever.
the educational testing company i work for has a ridiculously high turn-over rate. because of this, i've been subjected to countless mass-cc'ed 'good bye' emails. they contain shout-outs to shirley in accounts payable, private joke for jane in HR, and the writer's home email address (included in the vain hope that someone at the office had a crush on them so secret that it can only be revealed "now that we're not working together any more...") the stream of garbage was interrupted by a wonderful farewell email from superawesome freelancerjeffrey, who will be sorely missed for his wit and charm, both of which are evident in his good bye email. i present it here, slightly edited to protect the innocent:
Dear REDACTED COMPANY:
As I sit in my lonely cubicle, staring out into the blank void of the future, I am suddenly struck by the reality that I will soon be leaving you for good. This is extremely sad for me, but perhaps more importantly, it is extremely sad for you.
Will you miss me when I’m gone, REDACTED COMPANY? And what of our late night chats, our tender morning kisses, our wet t-shirt contests? Will I ever again look over at COWORKER in the midst of our morning calisthenics and share a private laugh at the expense of the fat chick in leg warmers? Is this truly the end of my ink fights with GUY WHO WORKS IN PRODUCTION, my Indian wrestling matches with COPY EDITOR, my fax/copier jam sessions with RECEPTIONIST?
We’ve had a lot of laughs, REDACTED COMPANY, and a lot of tender moments that I will not embarrass you by recounting right now. I fondly recall our initial, sweaty-palmed fumblings in the back of the locker room, long after the crowd had gone home, our faces illuminated by an emergency glow stick stolen from the custodian’s closet. I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on you in the ball court at McDonalds that you and I were meant to be together. I remember holding your legs on the beach, your blossoming chest pressed lasciviously against the sun umbrella, furiously trying to rescue it from the petty thievery of an errant gull. We truly fell in love that day, did we not, REDACTED COMPANY? Washing the seagull shit out of your hair later, we embraced, as I recall, and slowly lowered ourselves to the kitchen floor, below the sight line of the prying cameraman stationed at the window.
I am leaving you, REDACTED COMPANY, but I hope you know that I will always cherish you as a squirrel cherishes a field of buried acorns that have been destroyed by a well-meaning-yet-misguided rototiller. You will be in my every waking thought from here on out, driving me mad, yet somehow, simultaneously, keeping me sane. You are not only a lover to me, but a friend, a mother, a father, and a drunken uncle. I cannot be with you forever, REDACTED COMPANY, but I would appreciate it if we could still hook-up every so often, no strings attached, preferably at my place. And don’t stay too long, I’ve got another educational testing firm coming over later.
Ciao,
FREELANCERJEFFREY
Dear REDACTED COMPANY:
As I sit in my lonely cubicle, staring out into the blank void of the future, I am suddenly struck by the reality that I will soon be leaving you for good. This is extremely sad for me, but perhaps more importantly, it is extremely sad for you.
Will you miss me when I’m gone, REDACTED COMPANY? And what of our late night chats, our tender morning kisses, our wet t-shirt contests? Will I ever again look over at COWORKER in the midst of our morning calisthenics and share a private laugh at the expense of the fat chick in leg warmers? Is this truly the end of my ink fights with GUY WHO WORKS IN PRODUCTION, my Indian wrestling matches with COPY EDITOR, my fax/copier jam sessions with RECEPTIONIST?
We’ve had a lot of laughs, REDACTED COMPANY, and a lot of tender moments that I will not embarrass you by recounting right now. I fondly recall our initial, sweaty-palmed fumblings in the back of the locker room, long after the crowd had gone home, our faces illuminated by an emergency glow stick stolen from the custodian’s closet. I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on you in the ball court at McDonalds that you and I were meant to be together. I remember holding your legs on the beach, your blossoming chest pressed lasciviously against the sun umbrella, furiously trying to rescue it from the petty thievery of an errant gull. We truly fell in love that day, did we not, REDACTED COMPANY? Washing the seagull shit out of your hair later, we embraced, as I recall, and slowly lowered ourselves to the kitchen floor, below the sight line of the prying cameraman stationed at the window.
I am leaving you, REDACTED COMPANY, but I hope you know that I will always cherish you as a squirrel cherishes a field of buried acorns that have been destroyed by a well-meaning-yet-misguided rototiller. You will be in my every waking thought from here on out, driving me mad, yet somehow, simultaneously, keeping me sane. You are not only a lover to me, but a friend, a mother, a father, and a drunken uncle. I cannot be with you forever, REDACTED COMPANY, but I would appreciate it if we could still hook-up every so often, no strings attached, preferably at my place. And don’t stay too long, I’ve got another educational testing firm coming over later.
Ciao,
FREELANCERJEFFREY
# posted by Sweatpants Money : 1/20/2006 03:56:00 PM
