Dear Jackass in Charge,

Believe it or not, I do not wish to spend my Friday evening with you at the work-sponsored Christmas party.  I do not care for you. You seem nice enough, I guess.  If you were my neighbor we’d probably get along just fine.  (Although, you seem like the type who would write a sharply worded letter to the neighborhood association if my garbage can sat on the curb one hour past the garbage can curfew.)  I’m sure you are a lovely person outside of the workplace.  However, your general disrespect for my colleagues and me has ruined any chance we have of getting along.  Let’s just review a sampling of behavior… perhaps you’ll see what I mean.

First of all, you use phrases like “precipice of renaissance” with a straight face.  You gush, “Welcome to Tuesday!” instead of “Good morning.”  or “Hello.”  (Who hired you as the official days of the week spokesperson anyway?)  Regardless, I can’t stand seeing you heading in my direction.  I avoid eye contact to hopefully bypass any of your polysyllabic verbosity (I gots words, too) and idiotic catch phrases.

Then there’s the fact that you don’t like us.  You’ve told us to our faces how spoiled you think we are… and how we have a false sense of entitlement.  Yes, we are truly awful people for expecting other people to… you know… do their jobs.  The nerve!   I can’t tell you how fun it was to sit on the first day of school and applaud the favored members of the staff.  They were called up by name and given gifts for… you know… doing their jobs.  Yet there was no mention of all the staff who came in for two weeks to prepare for the start of the school year… two weeks of their vacation time… two weeks without pay… two weeks for the good of the cause.  In fact, we were scolded for using too much paper and breathing your air or something ridiculous.

I really could go on and on with the terrible things you’ve said and done in our time together, but I think you get the idea.  I don’t care for your management style (if you can call it that).  I don’t want to spend my free time with someone who doesn’t like or appreciate me.  But most of all, I wouldn’t be able to resist bringing my copy of How to Work for an Idiot as my white elephant gift.  Something tells me I’d be in trouble.

In summation, any holiday spirit I have (in the workplace) cannot overshine your general toolishness… and outside of work, you don’t exist.

Sincerely,

Me