Category Archives: Fun With HR

How To Draft A Letter Of Resignation With The Utmost Level Of Professionalism

I did it.  I gave my two-week notice to resign from my shit ass job yesterday.  You remember my job don’t you, Internets?  Of course you do. I’ve been bitching about it for months.  Of course I’ve been the world’s worst blogger as of late and maybe you’ve forgotten about it like I’ve forgotten where the apostrophe is  on my keyboard.

Perhaps we should have a refresher.

Or not.

Let’s not.

If you’d like, and I mean if you’re a sucker for a painful read, you can read about it HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE.

Just fucking with you, Internets.  Those aren’t actually links because who wants to relive that shit?

With a twist of fate (or whatever you want to call it) I was suddenly and surprisingly unburdened with the guilt I was plagued with in regards to my willfully being unemployed.  My employers made a move that shifted those dreadful feelings of my being a quitter off of me and squarely on to them for being assholes.

Fuck yeah for swinging levers.

So, I gave my verbal notice yesterday, but as a Human Resources Specialist I know I need to put my resignation in writing for my file.  I thought I would share my drafts with you here in case you find yourselves in a similar situation, you’ll have some ideas on how to handle it.  You know, from an HR professional.  So it’s like gold really.

You’re welcome.

DRAFT ONE

Dear Fuckers,

Well that’s no way to start a letter, is it?

DRAFT TWO

To Whom It May Concern,

That doesn’t work either because no one is concerned.  Not about me as it turns out.

DRAFT THREE

(read this one like a valley girl.  It helps. Is it still called valley girl?  Probably not.  I’m old ‘n shit) 

Hey Guys!  What’s uuupppp??? O-M-G how was your recent time off?  I’m super stoked to see your office lights off and your doors locked, on like a totally regular basis!  You go the fuck ON with your salaried exempt bad selves!  WooHoo!!!  But sadly, you so need to hear something you guys.  Remember that time you hired me and then promoted me at a less than desirable wage but then I totally took it anyway because you gave clear parameters of what my job would be but changed shit on a daily basis to suit your needs and you worked my ass to the bone ‘n shit and I was never so much as thanked or recognized for one thing ever even though I know that you are capable of speech and current communication methods that the world of technology affords us as human beings living in the 21st century ? Remember?  Yeah, that’s sooo not working out for me anymore and I’m totally gonna have to bounce, K?  Catch ya on the flip flop!!!

Way, way, WAY too High School/run-on sentence/lack of punctuation style.

DRAFT FOUR

Time to get serious and use first names ‘N shit.

TO:  The Bobs 

In light of your recent decision to not conduct my annual review and discuss my  performance whilst pushing through staff increases on the sly and disgusting (generous as they were) I am officially giving you my resignation.  

I get it.  You want an explanation.  And I shall give it to you baby birds.  I shall give it to you honestly even though your explanation of my pay increase was less than so.

You see, Bobs, my pay increase showed up on my last check without discussion or warning and if you’ll recall from our talks, I felt blind-sided.  Shocked really.   I know, I know.  There are so many reasons I should appreciate the EIGHT CENTS AN HOUR pay increase you blessed me with but I’m afraid you are just a little out of touch with what things cost in this world these days.  Tsk, tsk.  I thought you to be smart people who were constantly abreast of the changes happening in our world. Clearly, you are not.  Because the price of hookers and cocaine have REALLY shot up recently and this paltry increase simply will not do! And have you priced out dead hooker disposal fees recently?  Because let’s be real with each other here Bobs; sometimes things do NOT go as planned over the weekend and Sunday evening rolls around and I’m trying to focus on what I can do for YOU fuckers come Monday morning, but now I can’t do that because I have dead hookers piling the fuck up in my basement because EIGHT FUCKING CENTS just doesn’t take care of what it used to when it comes to dead hookers.  Are you with me here, Bobs? Are you fucking with me???  

Also, the price of Fruity Pebbles has gone up like $0.32 a box and I need my nutrition and colorful rainbow milk so I really have to draw the line somewhere, don’t I?

In closing, I would like to remind you not to bullshit your Human Resources Specialist.  Because in case you’ve forgotten, I have access to the very information you are trying to bullshit me with.

Eight cents?  Really?

Go fuck yourselves.

Regards Two Middle Fingers ~ Heather 

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Fun With HR – Volume 1: Sexism Edition

That's Not The Kitchen

Oh man, Internets, have I got a hot one for you today.  Seriously, I knew the moment that I saw this gem it was going right on this blog. 

Ok, first of all, I should tell you what I do for work because my brain has been pickled by vodka so I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned it before.  I work in the Human Resources department for a gigantic soul-sucking corporation in Seattle.  Please, please, stop with the oooh’s and aaaah’s.  It’s glamorous, I know. 

Working in HR, I see all sorts of fascinating documents.  Documents like gender and race self-identification forms, criminal history disclosure forms, union dues authorizations, counseling notices,  sexual harassment policies, W-2’s AND W-4’s, accident/injury reports, the oh-so-sexy WOTC 8850 forms, permits, I-9 documents, and….  Oh fuck, the list goes on and on.  But I’ll stop because I can see how jealous you are of my glitzy job.

The focus of today’s post is not on any of the aforementioned documents but on one of my faves:  medical documents.  More specifically, the one that fell in my hot little hands yesterday morning regarding an employee’s return to work after an injury. 

Recently an employee, who we’ll call Brad because that’s what his name is, took a leave from work for some fucking foot problem or something.  In order for us to let him return to work,  Brad was required to bring a release from his doctor stating that he was all better and at what capacity he is able to work.  You know, like no lifting or whatever.  Brad’s doctor sent him in with a note alright and it was something to behold, Internets. 

Are you ready for this?  Are you??

This is a direct quote from the good Doctor’s release:                                        

“He has improved sufficiently enough to return to work on 12/08/11.  I advise that he do the “woman’s work” for the first three days.  After that he should be able to perform at his normal level.”

Ummm…….what?

I’m confused.  Why does this doctor want Brad to start out the first three days working harder than usual then go back to being a slacker?

Woman’s work?  Hold on a second while I check what year it is.  It’s 2011?  OK, that’s what I thought.  Because for a moment there I thought it was whatever time Little House On the Prairie was set in and the doctor was this guy:

…and he wanted Brad to do something like this for the next 3 days:

Something's missing.... Oh! She should have a baby on her tit while she's churning that butter.

Or this:

Both hands, woman!!

Or maybe this:

Is she wearing shoes? Oh she better not be wearing fucking shoes in the kitchen.

Who is this fucking toolbag doctor???  I cannot believe that a mother-fucking medical “professional” wrote that.  Furthermore, I can’t believe Brad brought that note in and gave it to his boss…..who is in fact,  a woman!  Nevermind, I’m not surprised by that at all because Brad is a fucking asshole.

As much as I would love to publish this dickhead’s name, the name of his clinic, his address and his phone number here because I totally have it right in front of me,  I’m not going to because I’m pretty certain that I’m violating some confidentiality something or other just by talking about this outside of the office.  Because HR documents are like Fight Club, you don’t talk about it.  But I love you, Internets and I just had to share this with you because that’s what you do with your BFF’s, right?

Anyway, I’m just dying to read what you have to say about this so comment away my friends!

Cheers! ~ SF