Oxford, England, Earth, The Universe.

To: The Creating Deity

Cc: everyone I know

In Re: Letter of Resignation


Dear God/Mother Goddess/Yahweh/Allah/non-gender specific incorporeal deity,

Having been in possession of this corporeal body for almost 25 years now, I feel it is time to hand in my resignation from the human race, with immediate effect, as I have several severe quibbles with the contract I signed before I took on “Me Mk. I”.

Yes, I did indeed read the clauses in the fine print; especially the first sub-clause (which I believe stated “life is not fair”.) In fact, it is this clause with which I wish to take issue, as it did not state quite *how* unfair life indeed is. Whilst I appreciate your consideration in allowing me to reside in a liberal democracy in the 20th Century, where disease and repression are not rife, where I am unlikely to die in childbirth, where I am one of the tiny minority on this planet who own most of the world’s wealth whilst the majority starve to death, and which politicians are forever telling us is a meritocracy, there are several teeny catches. It is, indeed, this last point which has ultimately caused me to resign my position, as it (falsely, in my view) led me to believe that hard work, application, dedication, and being fair and kind to others would ultimately pay off. Sadly, it seems this is not the case, and that you really took to heart the adage “nice guys finish last” when you created the universe. So that all my dedication has ultimately brought me is the ‘joy’ of carrying freeloaders who don’t seem to be cursed with the conscience/guilt complex which you saw fit to give me. Whilst I damage my health by missing dinners and lunches in order to get to rehearsals on time, others seem to have no compunction in going home, taking time over dinner, then sauntering into rehearsals without so much as an apology. Whilst I go to boring gigs in order to pay for the band in which I play to go to a contest, others seem to have opted out of them altogether merely because they are a slight inconvenience. When I take on a directing role because I am doing a favour for someone, all I get are complaints that I am not good enough, even when I am doing things that are outside the original remit because no-one will help me. I spend my life tidying up after people who are so thoughtless that they just assume that someone will clear up after them, never mind actually paying attention and putting thing back where the got them. I am prey to every thoughtless bastard who doesn’t care if they walk all over everyone else, every impolite git who doesn’t say thank you, get treated like a feeble-minded simpleton by people whose intellectual cv’s make me look like Albert bloody Einstein because I am a short, plain female. I am overlooked by a society which values looks over personality because I am not a stunning blonde model. And quite frankly, I’m sick of it. The only way it seems of getting ahead in life is to be a six-foot, blonde, busty, evil bastard who doesn’t care who she steps on in order to become a grasping multinational captain of industry, exploiting sweatshopping workers and buying governmental influence.

I am also sick of your rather twisted sense of humour, as outlined in the clause written by your deputy, that rather maudlin Mr. Murphy. You remember, the one that means the man of your dreams walks by on your bad hair day when you have Â’flu; or that the phone rings when youÂ’re in the bath; or that when you can finally afford the dress for which youÂ’ve saved, they have none left in the shop. Certainly minor problems in the grand scheme of things, but all in all they are an unrelenting drizzle in life. How shall we notice the occasional thing of beauty, the kindnesses of strangers, the stunning natural world around us, when we are damp and soggy from such persistently depressing occurrences?

In all honesty, I give up. I have no idea how much notice I must give in order to resign from the human race; I should be grateful if you could let me know, and perhaps put it in a more obvious place in any new contracts you draw up. If possible, I should like to terminate my association with the human race immediately; I feel there is no future for me in this company. I shall be very sad to leave those few people who are good and kind, and who have found it in their hearts to be my friend; but would hope they understand that I just cannot carry on with life as it is, with seemingly no glimmer of home on the horizon. Working does no good; being lazy brings even more problems than working; being kind does no good; yet acting just like the other rude bastards out there brings nothing but the resentment to which they never seem prey; loving someone brings misery; hating people does not seem to bring joy, as it ought in any logical universe.

Congratulations on creating Monday, a day specifically designed to drive me utterly to the edge and precipitating my current course of action.

I do not belong anywhere. People I look up to and adore either think I'm too bloody stupid to join in, or despise me for having some sort of education, and hate me cause I'm "bright". If I let myself be myself and be shy, then I'm standoffish, and you hate me. If I make an effort and be outgoing, then I'm over-effusive and you hate me. Jeez! what *is* the point??

I quit, and shall soon be applying to the god of cats, in the hope that being small and fluffy and occasionally making a buzzy sound in my throat will do me a bit more good than this most recent incarnation.

B

</rant>

(Edited by Bee 25/11/2003 01:27)

(Edited by Bee 25/11/2003 15:09)