The Resignation Letter

It’s past midnight. Sleep won’t come. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in three years, but I could do with one right now. It would help me think clearly. I need to put down this phone and write. Enough Tik Tok videos.

Elijah lifts his Mac and places it on his lap. The google page is open.

The subject, “Resignation Letter”.

His fingers linger over the keyboard and then he types,

“It is with deep gratitude that I inform you of my decision to resign from my role at ….”

He stops typing and stares at the screen,

Why the hell did I write ‘gratitude’.

What I want to tell these nincompoops, ijiots, is F**K U!

Hey ChatGPT, what is the politically correct way of saying F**K U in a professional tone that can be applied to a resignation letter?

“Here are several politically correct ways to express that powerful sentiment.
“I cannot in good conscience, move forward with this”.
This has moved beyond my professional tolerance”.
“My association with this organization has reached its limit”.
“I find the disparity between our stated mission and current actions to be unsustainable”.

Elijah stares at the responses and looks away from the screen. A feeling of disgust rises up his throat.

It is what I feel. Pissed off ASF but I can’t write that. I want to write it though. This needs to be a F**K U letter. What was the value of all these years of politeness and professionalism? Squat. Now they want to make my role redundant, after all I have built, all the work, all the years. Eleven years of my life. We started from nothing. I was loyal and honest, and this is how I am treated: with this level of disrespect. Some junior in HR is reminding me about my KPIs.

He bites his lower lip.

Ah F**K U. Truly.

His phone lights up with a notification alert. He reaches for it. It is one of his daily reminders.

Stop running. You have arrived. You are home.

It’s a quote from Thich Nhat Hahn, the famous Vietnamese monk. The insight sounded so simple when he first encountered it. Found the short film on YouTube Video, a meditation on the practice of stopping. Not just stopping the mind but also stopping the body. Help the body to stop and you help the mind to stop.

Easier said than done. He couldn’t stop. He did not know how to stop. But he had to. He had to stop and write this letter. This had to stop.

He wondered if he could find the Thich Nhat Hanh video on Tik Tok and clicked the button, starting to scroll, looking for the good monk.

00:45.

I am still sitting here trying to draft a resignation letter that says enough with the BS. The funny thing is that I am an expert in professional BS. I am a professional. The quintessential. Always respectful.

Where is the respect now? Is this how they seriously want to treat me?

This is irreconcilable.
This is unacceptable and contrary to the terms we agreed upon.

We had a gentleman’s agreement. Is this the price of loyalty? I was patient, I complied, I persevered, did not complain. Fortunes turned for the better and this is how you treat me. The audacity.

His thoughts drift to an executive coaching session held two days ago.

The coach was of no use. I thought he would help me resolve this dilemma but he kept making it about me. I am no longer compromising on my value. This treatment has to cease immediately.

The coach asked me what part I played to land in this position. That’s when I knew I had to find a way to end the session. Too confronting.

This is not my fault. I had been a good employee. Loyal. Professional. My track record speaks for itself. I built the f**cking company. Everybody knows this. I am not walking away quietly. I am going to quit with my chest. Enough with the disrespect. They thought they knew me. Oh no! They are gravely mistaken. I will not be disrespected and dismissed like some stray dog. Not me. This is a matter of dignity.

Elijah gets up. The urge for a cigarette has returned. He licks his lips.

I could do with a smoke right now. He walks to the kitchen window and he can see his car parked in the lot below under the spotlight of a street lamp. There are 24 hour convenience stores open at this hour. A kick of nicotine would keep him sharp. He looks at the time on his phone and then clicks the Tik Tok button as he leans on the window seal, starting to scroll.

01:29 am.

The coach asked me to sit with the real reasons for my resignation. Those were confronting questions.

If things were so bad, why hadn’t I left before?

That was actually quite unprofessional. Coaches are not supposed to use the word, “why”. It makes a client defensive. Of course I didn’t want to leave. I have been trying to leave for years. I knew I had to leave but I couldn’t. Leave to go where and start over where. I had given too much. These HR policies are just a scam. The whole organisation is a scam.

I feel so stupid. How could I not see this coming?

I had already mentally checked two years ago. All I was doing was clocking in and staying on top of emails.

Gawd! What has this work given me other than stress and burnout? Where is my hard earned exit package? I had completely believed the hype and outsourced my happiness to the organisation. I had become the mascot for purpose driven zeal and all the things that matter in my life, my relationships, my kids, dysfunctional. I have no true friends. My whole life is at work. For what? To be made redundant.

This was going to mess up my Linkedin profile. Now I have a gap.
How the F**K am I in this position?

I should have left for a long time. Look at those kids who found me and left. Kim is driving a Mercedes. I taught him the basics. I was his bloody mentor. The bastard now has his own agency. What is wrong with me?

The only time I have truly relaxed is when I went to the village for a long weekend and hung out with my cousin Ochieng who now lives in shags. That house. He spruced it up properly. It surprised me. I had never been inside. The interior is fine, proper finishing and furniture. Modern. Really no different from a Nairobi bungalow in Spring Valley. This guy is living like a don in the village. This is a guy who did NGO hustles and I, an industry professional, have a one bedroom with no running water. I am a man who once rented a house in Loresho, sharing a fence with the official residence of the ambassador of Brazil. How did this happen?

He thought about that cigarette again and smacked his lips again. He should have been decisive. That is the problem. Indecisiveness and worry.

The coach was right. I didn’t want to hear the truth. What role did I play in this? How could I reclaim my sovereignty without responsibility? I am a serf to this organisation and they know it. They are telling me exactly what I am worth, and that’s why I cannot accept that gift anymore. How the hell did I think I was an exception, indispensable?

This betrayal cuts deep. Yaani! after all that.

This is not right.

Elijah fingers are suspended over the keys. He types,

“I cannot in good conscience move forward with this” and then pauses looking at the sentence.

These guys had failed me and they know this is not right. This is not fair. Even in the eyes of God. This is just wrong.

Elijah could hear the coach’s voice in his head.

“But you knew they would fail you, and you said, you weren’t surprised?”

He sat with the thought and rolled it over his head.

They failed me alright but what they really failed at was to fill my hollowness. F**K. That’s what’s making me angry.

02:08

Elijah returned to the laptop. He tapped a key and the computer’s screen white glare illuminated his face and he squinted. He began type,

“It is with deep gratitude that I inform you of my resignation from the position of manager operations, effective ……”