Oh hey there Brad,
Remember me? Your former deskmate? The one you used to spill your heart and farts out to? The Priscilla to your Mark but in looks only?
When you left me for sales, I joked that we would drift apart, that the space-time continuum would cease to exist. Had I known my prophetic words would ring true, I would have never encouraged you to take on a new position that would finally give you the business cards you desired so much to earn lady business. Now that you’ve closed a deal or two, you’ve acted like I’m not important enough to insult on a near-daily basis.
Without your constant putdowns, snide remarks about my personality and the glib jabs at my looks, not to mention your physical abuse, I’ve felt abandoned. To fill the void, I’ve been spending the lunch hour drinking alone at bars, telling bad jokes and demanding the drunk locals slap me in the face for being me. Some have taken me up on that, but never as gently as you.
Foolishly, I believed that if I gave you some space, you would come back to me. At work, you’re constantly telling people you can’t talk unless the conversation will result in ad dollars. As such, I made sure when I brought you lunch, I also delivered a lead. So many hours spent neglecting my own work so I could help you do yours. And what did I get? Not even one comment about being an oinker.
When I realized the only time we conversed was when I made the effort, I knew it was time for me to pull back. Did you even notice my absence? It’s been three weeks since I’ve written you, two weeks since you’ve written me without response, one week since you’ve looked at me. But it’ll still be two days til we say we’re sorry.
How does that make you feel, Bradley? Can you even feel anymore?