Faking the Rat Race

FROM: Me, 27, frustrated, seriously hating the word "career", somewhere, (USA)
TO: You, My Boss, same somewhere, (USA)

Every time we have a conversation -- whether it be business or personal -- it will invariably sneak onto the topic of my future with the company. Rest assured that when it happens, the scale seems precariously close to tipping in favor of me reaching for the nearest writing utensil with which to implant into your temple. Most likely this is a by-product of my own lack of ambition towards anything in the corporate world, manifesting itself into this psychotic megalomaniac fantasy. Granted, I'm good at it. My personal work ethic continually pushes me forward to do the best job possible, which being a reasonably intelligent person is pretty damn good. The only down side to this is that it tends to create a glaring misconception in others that I am actually reaching upward for that next rung on the ladder. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Know this: someday I'm going to be rid of the awful facade that is my professional life, and through a device of my own creation able to generously support the ones I love doing something that makes me happy. Something that makes me money. Something I have to answer to no one for. Until then, out of self preservation alone, I will continue to do a fabulous monkey dance for you and the rest of the capitalist organ grinders. Just don't take it personally when the day finally comes that I sign my resignation letter with a drop kick to your face. Because in all honesty, it will be an equally offensive move towards the old me, and the destructive, loathsome beast of an enterprise you represent.

Warmest Regards,

Me

The Life You Rented Me

FROM: me, 31, nyc (usa)
TO: you (aka twat), 31, nyc (usa)

Dear twat,

You made my life miserable while we were sharing an apartment. The sharing part turned out to be a scam. When you said "roommate" you meant "tenant" and, being that the apartment was not yours yet you were already living in it, "tenant" turned out to be renting a bedroom from you and splitting the rent with you. Or was it paying slightly (or not so slightly) more than my share? Of course I knew.
Things were okay at the beginning although you were already showing some promise. Remember what's-her-name? the one who moved out within the month? She gave no trouble (you know she did not), no notice, no nothing. When it came to not giving, she didn't even gave the keys back. She just took off. You showed me her empty room.
You moved in your girlfriend, your bow-flex, your free weights, your washer-dryer, and the little decency you still had moved out. I should have followed. But the apartment was so close to work. And the rent so affordable. And.
I should have told you then. F*cking twat.

Truly, madly, deeply,

me