Kiss my ass Corporate America.

That’s right.   I’m through hiding in the shadows while you merge and acquire and downsize.   I’ve read our severance policy, and you can kiss my ass right through these starched, business casual khakis.   As you already know from my last standardized-annual-employee review, I have issues with authority, occasionally fail to meet deadlines, and I don’t use my vacation time wisely.  I’m not someone you want to mess with.

Four and half years.  That’s more than one-tenth of my life.  And what do I have to show for it?  A closet full of slacks and button-downs that I’ll never wear anywhere else, that fleece blanket with the company logo that was last year’s Christmas bonus, and a corporate discount on my wireless phone plan.    Not much, is it?   Every year I gave to the corporate charity drive.  Every time I took the last cup, I made a new pot of coffee.  I cheered when they announced the company name during corporate night at the ballgame.    And you gave me a fleece blanket.  Thanks for nothing.

So, from this moment on, it’s no more Mr. Nice Employee.    You’ll see me.  I’ll be the guy looking indifferent at the next all-employee meeting.   I’m through updating my voice mail message daily.    I’m through grammar-checking my e-mails.   I will make personal phone calls  on company time if necessary.   I’m through ironing my jeans on casual Fridays. You’ve pushed me far enough.  Now you will incur my wrath.

Kiss my ass, Corporate America.

About the Author: Jon Carter Jackson

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