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Dear Mr. Smith,


  As a graduate of an institution of higher education, I have a few very 
basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superiors have 
an intellect that ranges above that of the common ground squirrel. After 
your consistent and annoying harassment of my coworkers and me during 
the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the
few true genetic wastes of our time.

  Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little nuance of
everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not 
only an utter waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. 
I was hired because I know how to network computer systems, and you 
were apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other employees,
who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "cut and paste"
for the hundredth time.

  You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as
binary still gives you too many options. You will also never understand
why people hate you, but I am going to try and explain this to you, even
though I am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what IP 
is. Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will.

  You walk around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for fault in
others. You have a sharp-dressed, useless look about you that may have
worked for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility,
you pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for 
your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the 
blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at. Managers like 
you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle. Since this situation is 
unlikely to change without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, 
I am forced to tender my resignation, however I do have a few parting 
thoughts.

	1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is 
illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation. The most you can say to
hurt me is "I prefer not to comment." I will have friends randomly call 
you over the next couple of years to keep you honest, because I know you 
would be unable to do this on your own.

	2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system, 
and I know every password you have used for the last five years. If you
decide to get cute, I am going to publish your "favorites list", which 
I conveniently saved when you made me "back up" your useless files. I 
do believe that terms like "Lolita" are not usually viewed favorably by
the administration.

	3. When you borrowed the digital camera to "take pictures of 
your Mother's birthday," you neglected to mention that you were going to
take pictures of yourself in the mirror - nude. Then you forgot to erase
them like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice to say, I have never 
seen such odd acts with a sauce bottle, but I assure you that those have
been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of a glowing
letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell checker please; I hate 
having to correct your mistakes.)

  Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of recommendation 
on my desk by 8:00am tomorrow. One word of this to anybody, and all of 
your little twisted, repugnant obsessions will be open to the public. 

Never fuck with your systems administrator.  

Why? Because they know what you do with all that free time!



Wishing you a grand and glorious day,


XXXXX


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[Contributed by Peter]