Five Ways to Quit Your Job

Just because you’re not the boss doesn’t mean you can’t be a boss. Here’s how to make it happen.

1. Write a Letter

Write a letter to your boss, detailing your reasons for moving on. In your letter, you may chronicle some of your boss’ transgressions, but be sure to do so with professionalism and tact. Be considerate in your reproaches and constructive in your critiques, should you offer them.

When you’ve finished writing your letter, hold it in your hand real tight and then tear that motherfucker to pieces.

You’re not going to give your boss a letter. You’re not a little bitch.

Instead, you’re going to bust into your boss’ office, climb up on his desk and squat down real low so you can look him in the eyes. Then you’ll say this:

“I quit, you slimy piece of shit.”

You can gently pat him on the cheek, too, if you’d like. It’ll ensure your alpha status.

2. Go Esquire

ImageYou’ve hated your job for a long time. Too long. So what’s a little bit longer?

Enroll yourself into law school. That’s right, law school.

Because you don’t play around.

Attend night classes for years in secret. Continue taking your boss’ shit everyday but know every time he blames you for a lost client or says your marketing strategy is a piece of crap (until that douchebag Sampson suggests the exact same one, and it becomes “Brilliant! Great idea, Sampson!”), just know that your time will come. Soon.

And when you’ve passed the bars – which you will, because you’re a bad ass motherfucker – request a meeting with your boss. Make it sound professional. You can do that, you’re a lawyer now. Say you want to discuss profit margins or onshore accounts or some shit.

When your boss shows up for the meeting with that stupid ass smug look on his face that says, “Ugh, you again,” put on your fancy law school graduate hat and tell your boss to screw because you’re a lawyer now and you don’t need his charity.

And then tell him that you’ve been observing his behavior and realized that, In fact, making lewd comments about sexual conquests to interns does constitute sexual harassment, a fire-able offense, and that Peggy from Human Resources has a thing or two to say to him about it. Actually, she’s waiting outside for him right now and he’d better not keep her waiting.

Actually, you’ve already agreed to represent Tiffany, Liana and Desiree, his past three interns, in a joint lawsuit against his creepy old ass.

And then go litigate, you lawyering son of a bitch.

3. Boss Your Boss

Get really good at your job. I mean stellar. Like, off the charts, bottle rocket to greatness good. Get so good that the option to not promote you sends shivers down corporate’s spine. That the thought of losing you as an employee has caused at least three board members to commit suicide. Get that good.

And then get promoted.

And as you climb the ladder, watch your boss as he waits for you, so small and so far below, waving you on with that fake smile he gives to everyone whose ass he kisses, day dreaming about the promotion he’ll be getting in the near future because now he has “contacts in high places.”

You can spit on him if you want. But you probably won’t, because you’re a classy motherfucker.

Instead, you’ll rise to the top like a phoenix from the ashes and your boss will be so far beneath you that he’ll have to schedule time just to send you an interoffice memo. And when he applies for that upper level management job that just opened up, you’ll look at his piece of shit resume, narrating all of the things he says he does but which you know he doesn’t because you actually did those things for years without recognition or monetary compensation, and you’ll laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh. Because you’re not hiring that son of a bitch.

No way.

4. The Kill Bill

I’m just kidding.

Don’t kill your boss.

That’s a felony.

5. Just Quit

You heard me. Just do it.

You aren’t happy, pal. You haven’t been, not for a long time.

And although you’ve convinced yourself that the grass is definitely not greener on the other side, that it’s probably brown as shit and unwatered and crispy, you know deep down that you’re just afraid of change. You don’t want to shake things up because there’s a part of you that longs deeply for stability and comfort. And while you may not enjoy your job or your prick of a boss, you ultimately justify not leaving by counting all of the things you do like about your job: the nice benefits package, the paid holidays, the bountiful quantity of windows.

But you know what? That’s not enough. And you know it.

Don’t spend eight-plus hours a day working for inadequate assholes doing a task that’s mundane and boring as fuck. Don’t lie awake at night while your stomach churns up a batch of ravenous heartburn because you’re so completely dreading the commute tomorrow morning. Don’t answer people you’ve just met who ask what you do for a living with,

“Ah, I just work for some company. BUT WHAT DO YOU DO?!?!?!?!”

And even if the grass on the other side is browner than it is here, what about the grass on the other side of that grass? And the other side of that grass? It’s unlikely that all of the grass in all of the world is just disgusting and dried up and dead. There’s got to be some good grass, somewhere. Just keep hopping fences till you find it.

Because you deserve better, my friend. You deserve to be respected and appreciated, to be paid fairly, and to not have to fantasize about very graphic and machismo ways you can quit your job.

You should just do it. Just quit.

Find something else, anything.

Learn a new skill. Transfer to a new department or branch. Shop yourself around to competitors. Start an organic broccoli farm. Sell your plasma. Anything. Just get yourself out of that place because this is your life, god dammit, and you deserve to be happy.


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