Open letter to the girl they call Aman-DUH,
Ok, so I get it. You’re young, immature, wet behind the ears… whatever ridiculous euphemism you wish to inject here.But you’ve been at the company for almost a year and I honestly think, in that time, you have managed to get even dumber.
It seems like you should’ve gotten the hang of things by now, but each day, you continue to amaze me. Firstly, the cell phone. Honey, it’s gotta go. Nobody important is going to call you from 9am to 5pm, and honestly, we’re all a little sick of hearing your annoying Nickleback ring tone full blast every time your phone rings. Tell your friends you’ll call them back. You can set up your playdates on your own time.
Oh, and you know those things called titles, inspections, and insurance statements? Yeah, they’re kind of important. How about instead of talking on the phone/making baby shower invitations/flirting with the guys/playing on the internet, you consider making them a priority? Oh, and let’s try not losing them and blaming them on customers or other employees too, mmmkay?
The biggest thing I’d REALLY love for you to understand, however, is that Daisy Dukes and flip flops is not “work appropriate” attire. Just a hint – when everyone else is wearing khakis and business casual clothes, it’s not cool for you to look like you’re heading off to the beach. This isn’t Billy Bob’s Smoke, Video, and Bait Shop. I like to think that customers expect a little bit more from us. I don’t think you want to give a customer a full moon when you bend over to get their title out of the file cabinet. Or maybe you do. Hell, I don’t know…
But, I try, I really do try not to just haul off and slug you right in the face in the name of complete and utter stupidity. And it’s obvious that you’re not going anywhere soon, because you’re cute/you flirt/the boss doesn’t want to hurt your feelings/he doesn’t want to have to train somebody else/he wants to sleep with you, or whatever reason you are still working for the company.
Anyways, I will continue to burrow my resentment, pasting on my fake smile and pretending I’m interested in what you have to say, because after all, what difference does it make? We’re all in this together…
With love, Amy
