Take This Job And Shove It Following The Customary Two-Week Notification PeriodCommentary • workplace • careers • Opinion • jobs • office • ISSUE 41•10 • Mar 9, 2005 By Donald E. Little Donald E. Little Listen and listen good, sir. I've had it up to here with the stress, the long hours, and bad pay. I'm a house of cards that's just about to collapse. I tell you, I'm half a month shy of my breaking point. Following my two-week notice as mandated by the terms of my employment, you can take this job and shove it! At the end of those two weeks, I'm out of here. History. Dust. Gone, never to walk through those doors again. I am going to relish my freedom as much as I will despise the remainder of my time here. I won't be your whipping boy for much longer, so you'd better ask me about my filing system now. I'm tired of the way you work your employees' fingers to the bone and then reap all the rewards of their hard work. When's the last time you had an idea of your own? Well, I've taken your shit for long enough, and in 11 business days, I'll never have to take it again! You can't treat me like dirt after the 22nd. Boy, am I gonna let you have it with both barrels in my exit interview. Reconsider? Absolutely not. I won't stay another minute longer than the 4,800 minutes stipulated by the contract I signed during my orientation session. You can beg all you want, dangle pay raises in front of me, and even hire me an assistant, but it won't change my mind. It will be a cold day in hell when I set foot in this shithole after I'm removed from the employee roster. Yup, when I walk out that door carrying all the items from my locker, I'm gone for good. So you'd better kiss my sweet ass goodbye sometime between now and Thursday... not this Thursday, but the one after that. Because that day is the last you'll see of me, unless I run into you when I swing by to get my last paycheck. I don't have anything lined up right now, but I don't even care. This place is poison, and the only antidote is walking away as soon as the terms of my employment allow. If you want the keys, you can come to my office and get them yourself, once I no longer need them to fulfill my job duties. They'll be on the top shelf in the "Mondays make me grumpy" mug along with any pens I got from the supply closet. Go ahead and tell my coworkers that I'm as good as gone. Or I'll tell them when I see them in the breakroom today. Oh, and that reminds me, I'll have to stop by Human Resources and tell Barbara that I need a COBRA health-insurance form, too. I've said all I have to say to you, barring any work-related discussions we'll need to have between now and Thursday after next—so farewell and good riddance! If you need to apologize for how you've treated me all these years, I'll be training my replacement.