Resigned to IT
Sys Admin throws in the towel after 9½ years service
Dear Mr ffoukes,
As a long-term employee of MegaNet Ink my expectations have never
been very high, but I retained the fond hope that my direct superior
might at least possess brains slightly larger than a weasel's wedding
tackle. Sadly, your recent appointment as group IT Manager has dashed
even that modest expectation.
Asking me, a systems administrator with over 9½ years experience, 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 and money, but also a waste of a precious natural resource; my patience. I was hired because I know about Stuff. You were apparently hired to provide amusement to your long-suffering staff, who never cease to be hugely entertained by your inability to grasp the difference between the Internet and the World Wide Web even after they have been explained to you a hundred times. You will never understand packet switching because you do not possess the ability to find your own bottom in a well-lit room with both hands. Something as incredibly obvious as checking to see whether a printer is connected to an electrical outlet, before complaining that you cannot 'ping' it, is apparently quite beyond your comprehension. In short, you appear to struggle with concepts that the Ukrainian cleaning woman mastered long ago, yet, paradoxically, you seem perfectly capable of writing lucid emails on the subject of 'cum-slurping sluts' to your brother-in-law. By the way, Olga is the person who's been using your 'pee cee' after you've gone home to post snaps of her bottom on her weblog — captured on your digital personal photocopier, I might add.
I am going to try and explain why your staff hate and despise you, even though I am sure this will be about as effective as telling you what a MAC address is. My wife's tampons have more personality than you ever will. You swan around the place all day in your Armani business suit and squeaky Gucci shoes, endlessly looking for someone to blame for the results of your abysmal ignorance. You have the dress sense of Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, the charm of a freshly passed turd and all the intelligence of an autistic amoeba. In short, your entire existence is like a broken pencil; utterly pointless. In the cutting-edge world of 21st Century IT, you are a lobotomised velociraptor without the teeth. Managers like you are living proof that women should never breed.
As this lamentable state of affairs is unlikely to change unless pigs develop wings and/or hell is closed for business by an unexpected snowstorm, I am compelled to tender my resignation from this august company. However, before you froth up your cup of celebratory latte, I would like to leave you with a few parting observations:
I have the passwords to every account on the network. I know every password you have ever used in the last ten years. If you should be so foolhardy as to give me a less than stellar reference, I will publish your 'favourites list', which I conveniently saved every time you made me 'back up' your useless files. Whilst I am no expert in these matters, I have every reason to believe that descriptions like 'lolita bbs' and 'ass gaping teen sluts' will not be looked on favourably by the board of Directors.
When you borrowed my digital camera to 'take pictures of your friend's graduation', you omitted to mention that the 'friend' in question was the fifteen-year-old daughter of your next door neighbour. Nor did you make it clear that you were going to take pictures of her with her laughing gear wrapped around your knob. That you forgot to erase these shots, demonstrates only too clearly what an IT moron you really are. Suffice it to say that I have never seen an optical mouse put to such imaginative use, and I can only hope that the young lady managed to get it safely removed. You will be pleased to hear that I have made copies of the more interesting JPEG’s, and stored them in a safe place pending the authoring of your glowing letter of recommendation.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I shall expect your letter of recommendation on my desk by eight-o'-clock tomorrow morning, together with a cheque made out to 'bearer' in the amount of £25,000. Finally, should you be so foolhardy as to communicate the contents of this letter to anybody, you may rest assured that your sexual peccadilloes and twisted obsessions will be forwarded to the board and to the press. Never fuck with a sys admin, Mr ffoukes, because they know Stuff.
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