GFY

She was done. She had had it.

Sarah walked down the hallowed halls of the startup that everyone wanted to join. You know the one. Blaring Mass in B Minor by Bach, there was only one thing on her mind, and that was blowing this shit up, all the way down.

“You can take the money, the prestige, the title, the job association, the LinkedIn wannabees that want me to get them a job. Fuck em,” she thought.

Tired, jaded, and full of rage, what was once an optimistic marketer turned into the bitterest of mistresses — trading in self-interest for money.

Sure, for a spell, she felt grateful; she even felt as if she had belonged. Like the company itself and the people within it had gotten her.

That was until she had the cold realization that her peers were mindless drones and that her senior leadership was dumber than a doorknob.

And, to make matters worse, they ridiculed her ideas, yet the very same ones were the crown jewels of the GM’s All Hands meeting. How odd.

Nearing her manager's office, Sarah, the most sober-minded she had ever been, turned the corner, ignoring her manager’s power-hungry yet incompetent assistant, opening the doors.

“You can’t…” uttered said the dumb assistant as she looked on.

The doors ajar, showcasing a dumbfounded senior leader in all of his stupid glory.

“Hi, Sid. Consider this my at-will self-termination. Go fuck yourself,” she said, confident and full of self-respect as ever.

Stunned, he hadn’t had the chance to respond as Sarah turned the corner.

With a smile ear to ear, she knew that she had just burned every bridge in this Godforsaken town. And, for the first time in a long time, she felt like someone she knew.

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Taryn

Taryn Barnes is a journalist obsessed with the share economy, HR, Millennial culture, work life balance, and all things tech.