To My Ex-Manager

My Dear Ex-Manager,

You

fucking

cunt.

I don't know where to begin. Maybe I'll start by saying that my lovely wife first called you a cunt after hearing my stories. And you're the one person she allows me to call a cunt. I can just start talking about "that fucking cunt" and she'll know it's you of whom I speak.

Oh, you fucking cunt. Remember the Employee Appreciation Lunch, when all the executives stood up and said how much they appreciate the hard work we employees do. And then you, a manager, stood up for 30 minutes and talked about YOURSELF and how hard YOU work. Such a cunt!

Or after that first round of layoffs, in your office, telling me and what's-his-name that if you wanted, you could have everyone fired. That that's how powerful you are. Fucking cunt.

Remember how you cut down my idea for your stupid-ass project, and even told coworkers behind my back that I wasn't realistic. Then, two weeks later, you used the same idea and took credit for it. Cunt!

And why would you talk bad about one of my coworkers and tell me she's having marital problems? Were you trying to out-cunt yourself?

I could go on and on. Remember when you told a coworker, "mishmash doesn't believe in anything!" Didn't you know that would get back to me? You fucking cunt. I actually took it as a compliment. That I was one of the few to stand up to your bullshit.

Of course it all came back to bite me in another one of those many layoffs, when it was my time. I've got to admit I appreciated that you threw a few perks my way at the end, and even expressed regret that you had to let me go. So thanks for that. I guess even you can't be a perfect cunt all the time.

Sincerely,

mishmash