As of this month, I have officially put in my two weeks at the bar that’s been my source of income and alcohol for the past year. Sadly, it’s time for me to rejoin the work force and pretend to be an adult again. While my official letter of resignation was actually just a conversation with my boss, here’s the letter I wish I could write.
To Whom This May Concern,
I’m honestly not sure whom I should address this too. Should it be to the new guy that doesn’t know my name? Should it be to the owner of the company? He definitely doesn’t know my name and I’m pretty sure he’s been in the Bahamas “setting up our new location” for the past four months. Fuck it, I’ll just send it Fred. I doubt he’s in charge of these things, but he’s been the most lax about me drinking on the job, so he’s my favorite.
Speaking of drinking on the job, I wanted to express my sincerest thanks for letting me work here for the past year. I had always wanted to work anywhere that paid me to be in a bar, and this opportunity presented itself at the right time (after I got laid off with no warning three days before I had to sign the lease on a new apartment). I know I wasn’t the most experienced, knowledgeable, or to be honest, hard-working person you could have hired, but what I lacked in those areas I made up for by being good friends with the Director of Hiring. I have much to thank you for. Thank you for not firing me when I broke 18 glasses (a record!) on my first shift. Thank you for covering my ER bill for the stitches I subsequently had to get. Thank you for always surrounding me with attractive waitresses and bartenders, and for having the word “sexy” in our official company dress code. And most of all, I’m thankful for the opportunity to work in an environment where I can get paid to drink with my friends.
This environment is a tough one to maintain, and throughout my employment, I have been constantly impressed with how you’ve handled it. From dealing with bitchy servers, drunk bartenders, and staff that take their smoke breaks WHEN WE’RE SLAMMED YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TOMMY, you’ve handled all of it with professionalism and patience. And for the time when I may have abused that patience, I would like to formally apologize. I’m sorry for the time I had to miss 90% of a shift because I fell off a keg and thought I broke my back. I know that it’s slippery as hell in the walk-in cooler, but let’s be honest: it was because I was hammered. I apologize for yelling at our patrons to “get the fuck out because I’m trying to make last call at the late night spot down the street.” I wish I could offer excuses, but all I have is the one I used when you asked me what I was doing, which was “I honestly thought all you managers had left already.” I also apologize for never being sober enough to count tips at the end of the night. My math skills, even when I’m sober, are about at the level of a third grader. As you can imagine, I was never sober.
I would like you to know that I’m not leaving because of any grievances with the workplace or management. Unlike all the other staff, who bitch constantly, I was very happy with my job. It was easy, paid under the table (just kidding, I totally reported those tips to the IRS), and a fun place to work. Unfortunately, I got a real job (okay, an internship that hopefully turns into a real job), and can no longer spend weekend nights with you. Although I will miss the ability to drink at work (my agency has beer on tap), I must say I’m excited to get my weekends back. No longer will I have to beg people to come out with me on Tuesdays or watch Snapchat stories of my friends’ fun nights as I head home after work.
So thank you for all the opportunities you have provided me with and will continue to provide me with. I apologize in advance for blacking out aggressively on my last shift, and I hope that won’t change your mind on our agreement to keep me in the schedule system as an employee for 60 more days. I know I said it’s because I may want to pick up shifts, but in truth, I just want two more months of that 50% off discount.
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