Illustration by Bob AulYou two are the most fuck-witted employers I've ever had the displeasure of working for. For months I endured your urine-soaked cats crawling all over my desk, your flea- and tick-riddled dogs crapping and puking on the floor and slobbering all over my clothes, and your mite-infested birds wallowing in their own shit for weeks on end.
The final straw: the jokes you made in regards to an ex-employee suffering from multiple sclerosis. Don't even get me started on your distributors; multilevel marketing people like yourselves are a different kind of inbred ineptitude.
Yet, I stayed because I needed the money, and all I ever wanted in a job was to be a valued employee. Then business went bad and you let me go, and now you're denying my unemployment claim.
Go ahead, push forward with that appeal. I invite you. I took my notes; I got my back covered. I've got all the information I need to drag your asses through the dog shit you made me wade through day in and day out.
But maybe—just maybe—I'll let it all slide. It's only a matter of time before your multilevel marketing company will topple like every other pyramid scheme. For me, it'll be time for schadenfreude—
and a beer!
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, P.O. Box 10788, Costa Mesa, CA 92627-0247, or e-mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org
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