Fire Me

I won’t spend another sunlit day on Earth caged in this box staring at this screen taking meaningless calls with meaningless people doing meaningless things with their meaningless lives. 

I don’t want a raise. I don’t need a little more pocket change to spend on my fewer and fewer hours away from this nightmare so I can become a “senior associate” — a virtual hall monitor. 

I didn’t choose this life. I settled for it. Everyone here did. I coped by telling myself there is some creative aspect to my work, but that was a lie. Nothing creative is produced by this agency. 

I’m betting on myself now. I’m betting that I can make something more of myself and this life and never be imprisoned in anything like this ever again.

I’m also betting on Washington Legislative Code Title 50, which states that as an individual who has worked at least 680 mother fucking hours during his or her base year and was FIRED from their job is eligible to receive unemployment-insurance benefits for 6 months following the date of their separation. 

I’m betting that you follow this law and that when you fire me, since I won’t quit, I will receive biweekly checks as I turn my life in a direction completely opposite you and your industry and this monstrous pit of despair. 

I won’t quit. You must fire me. Do it. Do it now and make it painless for the both of us. We both know you don’t need any more friction in your busy daily Zoom-filled schedule.