A Christmas Resignation

Dear Mr C.,

I'm going to have to quit. This job just isn't what I expected. Nothing I do is really appreciated. I work and slave, and no one even acknoledges it. I'm sick of the job -- sick of life, really.

I talked to my mother, and she says that I shouldn't complain. She says she's happy that I got this job. I told her that I hate it, and that I don't see any real purpose for what I do, and she just patted my head. I hate it when she does that. I am so glad that I moved out.

When I first started working at the factory, you told me all kinds of stories about how my work helped others. You told me that children all over the world benefited from my work. I honestly don't see how, but it was really easy to follow what you said. You're pretty charismatic.

But now I'm sick of getting up early and trudging off to stand at a conveyor belt, assembling God knows what for God knows who. The others around me sing songs and stuff, but I think they're just as sick of it.

And so, I think I'm going to get another job somewhere. Maybe open a bakery, selling cookies or something. Anyway, I want to thank you for all your personal help and attention. I hope you can find someone to fill my shift soon, with the dead-line coming up and all.

Sincerely Yours,
Keebler Elf

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