Dear God
Dear God,
This is your final warning. We keep getting complaints from your department, and the project is still behind schedule, despite your initial promises to get it back on track centuries ago. We realize you had some big shoes to fill when you stepped in. There’s a long line of those who have held this position before you did, many of whom had distinct advantages over you, particularly in stylistic appeal. Many customers preferred inventive appearances and bright colors as opposed to your, as you put it, ‘down-to-earth’ attitude, but you said you could make it work, and we took you at your word. We understand it’s a difficult project to manage, particularly on your own. We used to employ a whole team of overseers for your job, but due to a combination of budget problems and an attempt to modernize, we were eventually forced to downsize to a single manager. Adapting such a huge task must have been daunting, but you performed it admirably.
That being said, you need to get it together. You assured us that none of this would be an issue, and yet your workload seems to continually get the better of you. We’ve had to warn you too many times before. We understand that some things are inevitable. You can’t stop some people from killing in your name. It happened to all of your predecessors as well, and by this point we believe it’s inevitable. However, your work ethic seems to be dropping drastically. If the position is too much to handle with your current workforce, we have extra staff who can be re-assigned to help you on a temporary basis, but as it stands now, too many customers are complaining, too many phones are going unanswered, and production is slowing to a crawl. We’re losing more and more customers to our competitors as it is, and the project is still nowhere near completion.
We do realize how dedicated you are to the position. You even got your own son involved to help manage your work, which we found extremely admirable. You’ve demonstrated capability from day one, when you immediately began to knock down those under you who didn’t have the project’s best interests at heart. You’ve never been one to shy away from risk either, not when so much was at stake. You’ve done a lot of fantastic work for us over the years, and we’d hate to have to let go such a promising employee. That being said, modernization is key to success, and if you continue to be unable to adapt to the new problems you’re presented with, then we’re going to have to replace you with someone who can.
This is your final warning. We keep getting complaints from your department, and the project is still behind schedule, despite your initial promises to get it back on track centuries ago. We realize you had some big shoes to fill when you stepped in. There’s a long line of those who have held this position before you did, many of whom had distinct advantages over you, particularly in stylistic appeal. Many customers preferred inventive appearances and bright colors as opposed to your, as you put it, ‘down-to-earth’ attitude, but you said you could make it work, and we took you at your word. We understand it’s a difficult project to manage, particularly on your own. We used to employ a whole team of overseers for your job, but due to a combination of budget problems and an attempt to modernize, we were eventually forced to downsize to a single manager. Adapting such a huge task must have been daunting, but you performed it admirably.
That being said, you need to get it together. You assured us that none of this would be an issue, and yet your workload seems to continually get the better of you. We’ve had to warn you too many times before. We understand that some things are inevitable. You can’t stop some people from killing in your name. It happened to all of your predecessors as well, and by this point we believe it’s inevitable. However, your work ethic seems to be dropping drastically. If the position is too much to handle with your current workforce, we have extra staff who can be re-assigned to help you on a temporary basis, but as it stands now, too many customers are complaining, too many phones are going unanswered, and production is slowing to a crawl. We’re losing more and more customers to our competitors as it is, and the project is still nowhere near completion.
We do realize how dedicated you are to the position. You even got your own son involved to help manage your work, which we found extremely admirable. You’ve demonstrated capability from day one, when you immediately began to knock down those under you who didn’t have the project’s best interests at heart. You’ve never been one to shy away from risk either, not when so much was at stake. You’ve done a lot of fantastic work for us over the years, and we’d hate to have to let go such a promising employee. That being said, modernization is key to success, and if you continue to be unable to adapt to the new problems you’re presented with, then we’re going to have to replace you with someone who can.
Signed,
Upper Management
Upper Management
Last Chance
Approaching. Exit. In One. Mile.
The monotone of the GPS cut into my thoughts. One mile until Philadelphia. Only a few more after that until the hospital.
It hadn’t been my mother who’d called about him. She’d died years ago, and left him long before that. It had been a woman though, one in a string of women who weren’t my mother. I remembered her words.
“It’s your father...it happened again. This time they don’t think...well, he’s asking for you.”
The burn on my hand had itched then, as it always did when I thought about my father. It had itched ever since I ran into that stove, when he’d felt that a bottle was more interesting than watching me.
I remembered my tenth birthday, how I stayed up to wait for him, even as midnight crept past and I knew he wasn’t coming home that night.
“I’m on my way” I’d said, although I didn’t really know why. I’d taken an address and hung up without another word.
I’d thought about my mother, and how much she’d loved him, even as she packed our bags with tears in her eyes. I remember his face when we drove off, and seeing how, at least in that moment, he wanted desperately for things to be different.
I remember seeing him again at my graduation, shaking my hand, remember smelling the alcohol still on his breath and seeing the sadness behind his eyes as he slurred his congratulations.
I remembered my mother, ten years later, still torn between love and disappointment, even as she was dying in front of me.
Approaching. Exit. In Five. Hundred. Feet.
I remembered his call last year. Remembered him talking about his heart, repeating the things his doctors told him, things he probably didn’t understand. He understood the time they gave him, though.
Three years. Maybe.
“I just...I was hoping you could take a little time off work.” He’d said awkwardly. He was trying to be friendly. Trying to be my father. “Hoping we could see each other again, you know? Before...”
I’d stayed silent.
“Well, let me know, all right? It’d be nice to see my son again. Talk with you...man to man, I guess.”
I’d almost laughed as he hung up, laughed at the thought that my father had any idea what it meant to be a man.
I’d seen him a few months later, briefly. I’d met his new...friend, a woman barely older than I was. I listened to him talk at me, tell me about how he wanted to make his last months count, even as he took his medication with Jim Bean. I’d left shortly after, having said barely a word.
Approaching. Exit. On Right.
I thought about my father, and the burn on my hand itched.
Recalculating...
Recalculating...
Recalculating...
The monotone of the GPS cut into my thoughts. One mile until Philadelphia. Only a few more after that until the hospital.
It hadn’t been my mother who’d called about him. She’d died years ago, and left him long before that. It had been a woman though, one in a string of women who weren’t my mother. I remembered her words.
“It’s your father...it happened again. This time they don’t think...well, he’s asking for you.”
The burn on my hand had itched then, as it always did when I thought about my father. It had itched ever since I ran into that stove, when he’d felt that a bottle was more interesting than watching me.
I remembered my tenth birthday, how I stayed up to wait for him, even as midnight crept past and I knew he wasn’t coming home that night.
“I’m on my way” I’d said, although I didn’t really know why. I’d taken an address and hung up without another word.
I’d thought about my mother, and how much she’d loved him, even as she packed our bags with tears in her eyes. I remember his face when we drove off, and seeing how, at least in that moment, he wanted desperately for things to be different.
I remember seeing him again at my graduation, shaking my hand, remember smelling the alcohol still on his breath and seeing the sadness behind his eyes as he slurred his congratulations.
I remembered my mother, ten years later, still torn between love and disappointment, even as she was dying in front of me.
Approaching. Exit. In Five. Hundred. Feet.
I remembered his call last year. Remembered him talking about his heart, repeating the things his doctors told him, things he probably didn’t understand. He understood the time they gave him, though.
Three years. Maybe.
“I just...I was hoping you could take a little time off work.” He’d said awkwardly. He was trying to be friendly. Trying to be my father. “Hoping we could see each other again, you know? Before...”
I’d stayed silent.
“Well, let me know, all right? It’d be nice to see my son again. Talk with you...man to man, I guess.”
I’d almost laughed as he hung up, laughed at the thought that my father had any idea what it meant to be a man.
I’d seen him a few months later, briefly. I’d met his new...friend, a woman barely older than I was. I listened to him talk at me, tell me about how he wanted to make his last months count, even as he took his medication with Jim Bean. I’d left shortly after, having said barely a word.
Approaching. Exit. On Right.
I thought about my father, and the burn on my hand itched.
Recalculating...
Recalculating...
Recalculating...