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My Life

What I Need

Mr. Baker,

As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have a few very
basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superior
shares an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel. After your
consistent and annoying harassment of myself, and my co-workers during
the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of
the few true genetic wastes of our time.

Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little nuance of
everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not
only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired
because I know about Unix, and you were apparently hired to provide
amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly attempt
to understand the concept of “cut and paste” for the hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as
binary still gives you too many options. You will also never
understand why people hate you, but I am going to try and explain it to you,
even though I am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what an
IP is.

Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will. You walk
around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for fault in others.
You have a sharp-dressed, useless look about you that may have worked
for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you
pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for
your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the
blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at. Managers like
you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle.

Seeing as this situation is unlikely to change without you getting a
full frontal lobotomy, I am forced to tender my resignation; however I
have a few parting points:

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal to
give me a bad recommendation. The most you can say to hurt me is “I
prefer not to comment.” I will have friends randomly call you over the
next couple of years to keep you honest, because I know you would be
unable to do it on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system, and I know
every password you have used for the last five years. If you decide to
get cute, I am going to publish your “favorites list”, which I
conveniently saved when you made me “back up” your useless files. I
believe that terms like “Lolita” are not usually viewed favorably by
the administration.

3. When you borrowed the digital camera to “take pictures of your
mothers B-day”, you neglected to mention that you were going to take
pictures of yourself in the mirror nude. Then you forgot to erase them
like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice it to say I have never
seen such odd acts with a ketchup bottle, but I assure you that those
have been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of a
glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell check please – I
hate having to correct your damn mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of recommendation on
my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow, not ONE minute later. One word of this to
anybody and all of your little twisted repugnant obsessions will be
open to the public. Never f*ck with your systems administrators, because
they know what you do with all your free time.

—-

I sure felt like writing something along these lines today. Grrr At my life.

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