Dear Business Owner Who Is Going Down, Down, Down, In a Fiery Blaze of Glorious
It was all there at your fingertips: great ideas, sound business philosophy, excited investors, and damn fine employees. Now you're living in Corporate La-La Land, and your business is an albatross around the neck of everyone it touches. In the industry, you're a joke, some newbie who thought she could take on the world; unfortunately, you're the only one who doesn't know it. As more employees leave you--loyal people that you ran into the ground with your inconsistencies--I doubt you'll take responsibility for their abrupt abandonment; you'll just masturbate furiously to Oprah while declaring yourself "authentic". I used to take the high road and hoped your business would succeed, but after seeing you micromanage your already unqualified management team (the one you chose based on your intuition, and not on their references or experience), and hearing about your transformation into a corporate bobblehead bitch who can't follow-through, I hope you fail. Spectacularly. And I hope your failure is documented throughout the annals of time, through every media outlet possible, and passed down from generation to generation as a cautionary tale. You used to be worthy of my respect, but now you're worthy of no one's.
Your Former Employee (there's a lot of us!)
Dear People Who Insist On Shopping at Trader Joe's When I Do,
Take a look around. Just look around the store, slowly. Eyeball the dimensions, give yourself some leeway. I don't know if you've noticed, but there's not a lot of room in here. Trader Joe's is slightly bigger than a breadbox, and yet here you are with your three kids, a large cart, and a dog, meandering about the store as though every object privately amuses you. There's not enough room for me, my road rage, and your entire extended family. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY.
I'm going to kick you in the shins,
I know you try your best. I really do. It's just... you're not exactly a winning hand, you know? Every time I utilize you on the playing field, I get shat in the face by Rock. He keeps kicking my ASS. And then, whenever I choose Paper, you go all Benedict Arnold on me and play right into the hands of Justin--he uses you to beat me! I'LL NEVER WIN THIS WAY. I need you on my team. Whatever he's offering you, I'll double it. Rock isn't dead, but I don't need him in my life anymore. I just need you and Paper; we can bring Rock down together.