So. Guess who has two thumbs and spent her Saturday night trying to compose a letter to the executive chef at Intergalactic HQ (and the HR department) that conveyed the appropriate level of apoplectic rage while maintaining a level of professionalism that strongly excluded calling anybody a “evil maggot-infested spineless shitheel who can jam his dick in a spinning robot-coupe”?
Ohhh, silly rabbit, did you think that you would STOP being antagonized by your coworkers once they stopped being your coworkers?
There were accusations. Directed at me. Implications of “cowardly” behavior on my part. The suggestion made that I gave up, shouldn’t have left. That I didn’t try hard enough.
That I cried too much, and didn’t scream loud enough.
From a handler.
I haven’t heard anything back yet. It’s early, though.
All the same.
Hold my flower crown, I’m going to kill everyone.