“Are you not intertwined?” shouted the gladiator. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “What we do at our job resignates in eternity.”
Yeah, it does feel that way sometimes. Luckily my craft doesn’t rely too heavily on proper grammar and fancy so-called “dictionary” words. Hey, just like my blog.
Yes, I’ve called this mandatory staff meeting to discuss resignation origami. (See inset picture.) In the spirit of multitasking this is also my ode to the Pope. To ensure professionalism at all times I hired Phil Mickelson as a consultant.
My research indicates that when it comes to quitting a job there are a few factors that are (allegedly) paramount:
- Give two weeks notice, more if possible
- Don’t burn your bridges
- Write a letter of resignation
- Be respectful
- Be diplomatic
- Be tactful
- Stay professional
- Offer to help
In other words, try to hold yourself to a standard higher than your employer ever showed you. Shit always flows downhill. Apparently, when quitting, the reverse is also true. Gold nuggets are supposed to defy gravity.
Ugh.
But, even so, behold the awesome power of a properly wielded Letter of Resignation (LoR) which automatically confers +7 intelligence and enhanced saving rolls.
More of my observations on this bit of arcane power will magically appear after the jump.
A suggested sentence from most standard recommendations for LoR:
I would like to inform you that I am resigning my position as [whore] with [Fukme Corp.]. My last day of employment will be the [7th Day of the Month of Nirvana].
–LoR boilerplate bullshit
Do you notice the key power phrase? Hell, you should. You got that +7 to intelligence working overtime.
“Will be.”
Finally, the “will” in “at will” pulls its own damn weight. And that’s worth its weight in gold.
Notice what words are missing from that powerful sentence. Words like “please” and “thank you,” and, of course, “request.”
This phrase in the LoR is not a request for anything. At all. Ever. It is a notification. Of a decision. In fact, it’s a notification about a decision that has already been made.
The boss does not need to sign off on it. It’s not up to him. He doesn’t get to say yes or no. It’s not open for debate. At most, the best he can do is offer an opinion, and we all know what he thinks about those when the tables are turned.
For years you’ve been told your employment is “at will” and that daring to ever utter the word “no” can result in immediate “disciplinary action up to, and including, termination.” Well, not any more. The one unilateral decision you are allowed to make turns all of that on its big fat boss head.
Control. Power. Decision. Choice. Will. Destiny.
With that simple sentence, those words are in your corner for once. Most likely for the first time ever since you met the boss. And watch him have kittens as he’s forced to deal with them. That’s 99 for you and one for me. Game. Set. Match.
I imagine the “oh crap, what now” look is fun to see
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It’s something like using a Visa card.
The Resignator walked into the boss’ office and said, “I won’t be back.”
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This gets me all weepy.
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It’s a veritable cornucopia of emotions, that’s for sure. For some, namely me, it’s a happy dance. For others, namely the boss’ wife, it’s a bitter betrayal.
“How dare he want to find something else besides sucking on the bottom of my boot heel! I never!”
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