Who cares that it’s Friday, all that matters is: It’s ‘stache glasses giveaway time!
This month is EXTRA chipmunkalicious, because Sun-Staches sent me ‘stache glasses to give away for free! That’s how awesome you are!
To win a pair of Sun-Staches glasses, tell me in the comments section below about the funniest way to quit a job. What would you say? How would you make your grand exit? Whether or not you’re a disgruntled employee, I encourage you to go all out, and use some part of a current or previous job as inspiration. Extra points for puns and creative use of office supplies.
I’ll choose a favorite and announce it on Monday, October 1, 2012. The winner can pick a pair of ‘stache glasses from the below and I’ll have them shipped faster than you can say, “Does polygamy really only apply to multiple wives? Because I’ve looked this up and frankly it’s unclear. And, P.S., polyandry is not nearly as fun to say.”
Don’t think that’s amazing? Just ask last month’s winner, Nicki from The Middlest Sister (I’m sorry, mylifeisthebestlife – yours will be there soon! Blame Canada!)!
Deadline: Midnight EST, Friday, September 28, 2012.
Print that’s way less fun than this video (thanks, Darla!): This giveaway is open to anyone who’s willing to enter and provide their mailing address in the event that they’re the winner. If you have any trouble leaving a comment in the comments section below, you can enter via email: Julie(dot)Davidoski(at)yahoo(dot)com. One submission per person.
I love you like my first husband loves peppers.
What more do you need to know?
Go Jules Go 
You mean we can use our imagination?!!! Ah, you’re so awesome. This one I may actually be able to participate in! And wow, that’s so cool that you got some for free, go you. 😀
I can’t wait to see what you whip up, Lilykins! And right back at’cha. 🙂
I really was at a loss for words when I found out they’d be sending me free glasses to give away. I still get a little choked up thinking about it.
Huzzah! I love my ‘staches glasses! I have no regrets about letting you choose 😀
And THAT is why you are a true chipmunk, Nicki. That picture makes me giggle EVERY TIME I look at it! You look AWESOME.
LOVE that photo of you!
Haha, thanks! 😀
Your glasses are so rad, Nicki! Alas, I picked the wrong pair! You even have blinds on your frames circa 1985! I’m filled with regret.
Pfft…I’m not worried. My time will come in about seven weeks whilst GIVING BIRTH IN THE GLASSES!
And that clip from South Park plays in my head basically every time I read anything from Americans. I have a deep and shameful love of that movie.
And can I just say that you are SO SO SO adorable? If my job was being President of your fanclub, I would never ever ever quit EVER, so this contest doesn’t apply to me.
And mine are HERE! Did you miss my post where they were posing with phallic fruit? And today’s post has them perched atop a VERY HANDSOME Husbandio!
Ha! I KNEW that was how the timing was going to work out! He looks AMAZING. I plan to comment properly very soon!
How about you crash your computer with all your curricula on it, so you have no teaching materials?
I’m never going to win these glasses, am I? Am I disqualified for life, just because I won your biggest, bestest giveaway ever? 😉
*sad trombone*
I would never disqualify you from anything, Ren-zay. Especially if there’s another bikini pic in it for me.
You’re adorable.
That’s not my entry. I’m just oversharing.
xoxox,
Debbie
Well, Debbie. You win. Let’s shut this thing down.
Okay, so you play it cool all day, then at the end of the day/your shift you hire 6-10 beautiful men and women to come in, dressed in “Rich person party in Ibiza/St. Barts” type clothes, carrying bottles of champagne. They come get you asking why you left and saying nothing’s the same without you. You say you needed a quiet life for a while – a chance to do something ordinary. They say they need you and will give you $5 million a year to come back and be mayor of the island, and that it’s purely a ceremonial position – there are no official duties. Reluctantly, you agree, and they carry you out of the building, cheering.
My vote is for Byronic Man! This didn’t really happen did it?
Clearly you haven’t thought about this at all.
I love this.
Crap. You already have ‘stache glasses. (That doesn’t make you exempt, though.) Too bad they don’t make baby sizes.
Now I’m disheartened because I know I can’t top that… Damn!
Do not be intimidated by his half-face and the fact that he clearly had this answer in his back pocket.
You are wise beyond your years, and now are only missing the proper ‘stache. I have faith in you.
HA-HA-HAAAAA! VICTORY SHALL BE MINE!!!
I mean: Nonsense! You can beat that!
Byronic! Gees, don’t you know the rest of us want a pair of cool glasses too?!
I don’t think this counts as an entry but the weirdest one (which also drew the most people holding their sides and leaning on desks, laughing) in my lifetime was an Objectivism gal (this is back in the mid-90s before ALL the Conservatives adopted Ayn Rand…it used to be for the whack jobs only) who worked here. Without any warning, she just wasn’t here…but she left photocopied pages from The Fountainhead on peoples’ desks, with certain passages highlighted.
I remember thinking, “Geez, she must have really hated us cos that took too damned much time to do. Christ. Just leave.” Sort of related, a few years later, a very Christian lady left but sent a MANIFESTO to the owner of the company and our immediate supervisor. I suppose like most manifestos, parts of it were spot-on true — like shockingly “OMG she did not just say that directly to the ahole who needs to hear it but won’t understand he’s guilty). Other parts just rambled all over the place, like I’m doing in this comment.
Weird, both.
Ha! Nice!! I really, really have to respect that manifesto approach. It’s a shame when really poignant insights get swallowed up by a boatload of crazy.
On a totally unrelated note, why doesn’t anyone ever take me seriously?
Hahahaha, wot?
I mean, a manifesto is a COMMITMENT. Too much bother for me!
Elegantly dressed, I would make an official appointment with my boss and be late for the meeting. Then I would have my butler announce me, and with as much fanfare as possible, I would, (while holding the latest and most fashionable dog that I have placed a diamond collar on) tell the boss that he is not living up to my expectations, therefore I must leave his establishment. I would then hand him a parting gift and take my leave.
All class, all the way.
I LIKE IT.
It may not be funny but I am sure when I leave my job my body wont really be leaving. I mean I will just slump over in my chair and pass on to my eternal reward. I just hope someone notices me behind my computer moniter. I am sure they will only notice that I am not answering my phone (which rings all day long without end). Either that or I will have someone come by my desk and tell me that I have been sold to the highest bidder. Sigh… I wish I could afford to retire.
Oh, Cate. I feel your sincerity alone should win you a pair of ‘stache glasses.
Send me your address.
I could just send my boss a link to my post: http://magicbusstop.wordpress.com/2012/04/10/a-day-at-notwork/. That would relieve me of the need to quit, and probably get the bejesus sued out of me.
You are my hero.
But I think we already knew this. Raising my Tito’s in salute. (I’m still waiting for them to partake in a future giveaway… LOL)
Thanks for humoring a mad queen. I don’t like to include links to my blog when commenting on someone else’s, but the notwork day really just said it all. When the lawyer’s done with me I could wear the glasses while begging on the local pedestrian mall.
I’d waltz into the office in a formal gown and tiara during one of our company-wide meetings and announce that I’ve been corresponding via email with a long-lost Nigerian prince who needed my help to regain his thrown. During our weeks of touching emails that included my financial information and in a fairytale like twist of events, he asked me to marry him. So now I’m off to be the next Grace Kelly and must catch my flight to Africa. I’ll miss them all terribly and wish them the best. And finally, should they ever visit Nigeria, promise them the chance to stay in my palace.
Those glasses are SOOO awesome!!
I KNEW I should have been responding to those emails in my spam filter…
I have the most awesome kickass stache glasses already that Jules custom picked for me. But were I to quit, which there is a very real possibility will happen soon, here is how I would like for it to go down:
I kick down my boss’ door with my steel toed boots, wearing a long red cape blowing in the wind, a black body suit (ala Black Widow/Scarlet Johannsen), and tribal war paint on my face. After standing there majestically for a moment, hair whipping around my face from the tornado of my rage, I will glare at him with an icy hateful stare. Then, when he has sufficiently whithered from my hateful glare, I will very quietly and calmly say, “I. Quit. You.” I will then slowly turn away, and as he begins to relax and regain his breath, I will whip around and roundhouse kick him in the face.
The End.
You had me at “black body suit.” Maybe if you wore your ‘stache glasses to execute this, he wouldn’t recognize you? Just something to think about.
Ha – love the topic and I’ve definitely thought about this. 9 years at a fairly crap job causes you to dream, you know? And I’ve been dying to share with someone (can’t share at work because the man is always trying to keep me down).
Anyhoo. I work in a call center where I’m supposed to be helpful to the customers, which I generally am and I’m so sweet I even make myself sick. On the day I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to take my calls but say things like, “Hmm, that does sound like a tough problem. Maybe if you didn’t always wait until the last minute, you wouldn’t mistakenly place the blame on me because you are frustrated at your lack of organizational and technical skills”, “Oh, I’m sorry – I was just waiting for you to finish telling me all your problems. Ready to hear mine?”, “Oh, I’m sorry – I don’t handle that. You’ll have to call back, but you have a good shot at getting someone that cares”, etc etc. Then, either at the end of my day or when I see the bosses coming, I’m going to say to the person on the phone, “Oh jeez – look at what you’ve done – YOU’VE GOTTEN ME FIRED! I will come for you – I know your address!”, hang up on them, stand up and scream “Peace out, (rhymes-with-witches)!” loud enough for other people to hear and then walk out.
This is why I don’t have any personal items that I would be sad to leave behind at work. And boy, even though it isn’t very creative, I feel so much better for sharing.
This is amazing! And you must have the patience of a saint if this is still just a fantasy.
Hmm, maybe you could coin “blog therapy” and make a killing! Let other people vent in the comments with a weekly feature, then start charging… I’ll gladly help if it means the above scenario will play out.
Does it count if it really did happen? Because this did: I worked for a high end car dealership years ago. They hired a new HR Manager and another Manager in my department; both male and both clearly hated women. After a few weeks of being pushed around and generally targeted for anything and everything, I showed up for work one Friday morning to be informed I was being “let go”. They had no good reason in my opinion. Anywho, they told me to come back that afternoon to turn in my company phone etc. and they would have my final check ready. Fire me in the morning, let me go home and stew about it (and call every person I knew long distance on that company cell phone) and then ask me to come BACK? Someone didn’t think that one through. One of the things they kept harassing me about was my wardrobe (which was always professional) so I went back that afternoon dressed in a leather breakaway mini-skirt, high heels, a sheer top and driving my brother’s Corvette. After letting them know, in no uncertain terms and with high volume use of the word “fuck” I walked away from them, past the fancy waiting room filled with fancy customers. I then ripped off the skirt to reveal a black jewel-back thong and said, “How do you like my wardrobe now?”. I got in the Corvette, which was parked inside in the service bay, started it up, revved the engine, put it in gear and did the most amazing break-stand ever which filled the place with smoke from the burning rubber and drove out of there with my middle finger out the window. It. Was. Awesome.
I know that technically that wasn’t me quitting a job, but it was me leaving it!
Cheers! ~ SF
that is so epic!
I agree with lexy 100% – epic! TOTALLY counts if it really happened, and also means you have a very, very special place in my chipmunk heart. What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall for THAT!
Cheezus Christ, I am salivating over those ‘stache glasses pics. Get a grip, Speaker7, you can do this. My palms are sweating…okay. I just got back from a limo ride where this guy from arbitrage tried me to get him to sleep with him. My sleazy stockbroker boss set this up because he knew I was hungry for a new job. When I arrive at the office, I get on my Commodore 64 and start typing “David Lutz is a sleazoid pimp with a tiny little dick” so it appears on the stock ticker, and a I storm out in my stiletto heels and poofy bozo-clown hair.
Frack! I just describe a scene from Working Girl. Curses!
Use of the phrase “Cheezus Christ” alone puts you as a frontrunner, speaker. And I never said you COULDN’T plagiarize…
Love these. I was kind of tempted to use that ass-kicking one until I realized that I am self-employed.
Ba-da-BOOM! Ha! This made me LOL, for serious. But then, you always do!
I would hire Joe Pesci who would walk into my bosses office accompanied by two voluptuous strippers and a baseball bat. After a nice chat, the strippers would ply their trade all over his Christian ass while Mr. Pesci snapped photos that I would use to blackmail the boss for the rest of his life and thus guarantee I would never have to work again.
or i would just not show up ever again.
Ooh, you’re the only person who brought up blackmail so far, which is really surprising now that I think about it. Kudos to you for thinking ahead!
Here’s what you do:
First, prepare for your grand exit by stashing a bag of gold glitter (the herpes of the craft world) and the most hideous, purple-and-gold-star covered scarf you can find in your breast pocket.
Wait until you know your boss is going to be in the office. Have a friend call at a strategic time (say, as your boss is asking you to review those TPS reports one more time). Hold up your hand in an imperious manner, pick up the phone, and listen for five seconds. Then let out a high pitched (or low and loud, you might be a tenor or something) scream and whip out your scarf.
While shouting, “It’s a psychic emergency!” wrap the scarf around your head and throw the glitter over your boss (and the rug, and the office in general. This will later be impossible to remove, insuring that your boss is reminded of your obnoxious presence forever) while striding to the door. Once there, pause and turn back, an appropriately sad and serious expresion on your face.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t be returning to work. I’ve Seen this day coming in my dreams, and..let’s just say, I’m not going to make it.” then let out a long sigh, throw some glitter sadly over your shoulder, and walk out the door.
Bonus points if you cry, just a little bit.
TPS reports! Ha! Nicely dropped.
Thank you! On an unrelated note, I actually got to smash some old office equipment with a hammer this summer. It was just as fun as it looked in the movie.
Oh… I know… I know. I should also mention that I may or may not have watched that movie once a day five days a week during business hours while at work for the last six months of a job I once had…
Oh, Hannah. Between the TPS reports and the glitter and… Wow. Wow. I’m awed and, I guess, a little speechless.
Nicely done.
This is probably more weird/wtf than funny but here goes…
I would come into work one day with smeared make up, a wrinkled blouse and a skirt that’s on sideways. When someone approaches to ask if I’m ok, I’ll say in my shakiest voice possible, “No! I…I was abducted by aliens last night. They did…all these…awful things to me! They sent me back because I have a mission to accomplish at this job but I just…I can’t do it. It’s just too awful.”
Of course people are gonna think I’m crazy…so at this point, two guys (who I bribed) come in dressed like “aliens” and freak everyone the EFF out. They point at me and say, “YOU! Traitor! You swore you would never tell our secret. Now you must pay the consequences! We will be forced to terminate you AND everyone here.” At which point, I say, “No! Take me, they didn’t ask for any of this. Please leave these wonderful people alone, especially my boss…he doesn’t mean to be an asshole. I quit, I am no longer associating myself with these people…please, please leave them alone!”
Then I grab my purse and run away in a panic, tears streaming down my face. The two aliens stare threateningly at everyone and say, “Her courage to quit has spared you all your lives.” Then, in men-in-black-style, they point a laser at everyone and say, “You will not tell anyone what happened here today. If you do…you’ll probably end up in a psych ward…OR dead.” And with that, they chase me out of the building. No one ever hears from me again.
Oooooh, Lilykins… this is a GREAT idea. (And funny!) You get to mess with people, you’ve got your way out of the psych ward, AND you look like the hero. Not to mention the high-stakes drama.
Bravo.
I would walk into my boss’s office and close the door while saying, “There’s something I need to tell you.” I would act nervous and a little upset so that she would think I had just been diagnosed with some horrible, life-threatening condition. I would sit down and say, “I’m just not sure how to tell you this…” and my lip would start to quiver. As she handed me a tissue to dry my already dry eyes… FLASH MOB! A hired group of dancers in various shades of harem pants would burst into the office and we would all dance to the tune of MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This.” Just before the song got to it’s final chorus, everyone would freeze and I would sing, “Stop, quitin’ time. Nee nee nee nee, nee nee, nee nee, I just quit!” and dance my way right out the doors.
Oh if only I were brave enough to pull that off!
Flash mob! Yessss. It’s perfect. I think you’d have just enough time to get through the song before your boss figured out what was going on, so that just before it hit her, you could have your ‘nee nee nee’ moment.
This one is tricky and not for the beginner.
You walk into your bosses office and have a somewhat normal I am quitting conversation with him/her. You do not raise your voice. You do not make a scene. You act as normal as you know how. Then you turn around and walk out of his/her office. This is the point when he/she notices that you are not wearing any pants. Make sure you take the stapler on the way out… just not from that guy who’s gonna burn down the building– take your own stapler.
Thank you for the disclaimer. I almost went to work last week without pants, but realized I wasn’t ready for this yet.
You know, at my last job, they shut down our office (i.e., everyone was laid off) and you’d better believe I really DID take my own stapler. It’s a heavy-duty Swingline. It’s not red, but it rules.
Good call. I have made it a policy to just buy my own staplers and come and leave jobs with them… because you never know.
There is more than one way to actually do this. I think the easiest involves break-away-stripper-pants… but it is still really tricky to walk into someone’s office wearing pants and walk out without them on without them ever seeing you take them off… but the pay off is totally worth it.
I don’t know if I want to admit this or not, or maybe I should be proud? But I’ve quit a fair share of jobs in my day 😉 I’ve done the sending an email before leaving for lunch informing them that I would not be returning after lunch, or EVER, which really isn’t all that funny – or the classic, “You can’t fire me, I QUIT! AHAHA!” which is slightly more funny. I think the funniest thing I’ve ever done whilst quitting a job was to tell my boss that “Oh yeah, well, you have a head that is too small for your body!” back in my purple haired days – good times, good times – but I think that’s about all I’ve got for being close to funny 😉
Noooooooo. You said that to your [former] boss?! HA! That’s AMAZING. I feel like I need to hear so much more about these jobs.
That was just a piddly little retail job, so it was pretty easy to do that 😉
Hey Jules, I really like that black and white shirt. Can I borrow it for a deal I have to go to this Friday?
Oh crud. Sorry I’m late in responding. Does this mean you went topless?
My job is so uptight, that wearing the ‘stache glasses there might actually get me fired.
Ha! Now THAT is an entry. So perfect in its simplicity. And who wouldn’t want to find out what would happen if you wore your winnings (‘stache glasses) to work?
I would not want to find out, for starters. But should I win, I could wear them at home. That would only be fair because I’m the only one in my family who does not wear glasses. And I’ve shaved my real mustache off a few years ago too, probably making space for that fake hanging one.
I have to remove myself from this contest since I already am rollin’ in the ‘stache glasses. Very carefully though so as not to scratch them.
But if I had to quit a job, it would probably be on a sticky note — a la Berger from Sex and the City, who was without a doubt the biggest douche bag boyfriend of the City.
Nnng, that’s big of you. Many of your mustachioed bloggy friends are still gunning for another pair. Not that I’m naming names. Also I guess it’s good that they are, or pretty soon I won’t have anyone entering my contests.
I’m very sad that I don’t remember that scene. How big was the sticky note?
At the library, they don’t let us wear jeans, ever.
So for starters, I’d walk in with jeans, really torn up ragga-muffin jeans. I’d probably even put a temporary tattoo on my face of spongebob squarepants, and make sure I came in smelling like pot.
I’d smoke a couple joints before I went into work too, so that my eyes are entirely red, and also make sure that I smelled like jack daniels or something.
I’m not a drinker or a smoker, but for some reason it’s more appealing in this situation.
I’d come in four hours late, only to arrive when it’s my lunch time.
I’d instruct my boss that I need a private meeting immediately.
The conversation would go as follows:
My Boss: “So, what’s up with you today, you look like crap.”
Me: “I do?”
My Boss: “Yeah, you know you can’t wear jeans”
Me: “Well, I guess I am wearing jeans today, aren’t I?”
My Boss: “I really don’t have time for this. Just go do your job.”
Me: “But I can’t, because I am here to tell you that I quit.”
My Boss: “Well, you didn’t deserve this job anyway.”
Then, I’d hand my boss a thank you card. In the card, I’d have a joint and the gentle message: “Thanks for the long and crazy trip. Here’s one for the road. I know you will be needing this more than me. Forever yours, me.”
Then, simply walk out.
=)
WOW, what a relief to explain. Thank you for this thearpy and catharsis!
No no – thank YOU for taking me on this ‘trip’ (har har)! And you mean you can’t wear jeans and get high at your job? No wonder you want to quit!
(Actually, the jeans thing is too bad – I work in Big Pharma and even we’re allowed jeans on Fridays!)
hahaha, i am glad you like. I don’t know why it is, but smoking a joint and quitting my job somehow go hand in hand! LOL
I would get me a horse, get naked, tell everybody I was Lady Godiva, deliver cakes to everybody at work…. (y’ know, because I don’t want to be mean). Hire an owl to fly to the boss, carrying a tiny piece of paper, which says that I must follow my dreams…. and then leave……
That is truly amazing… and that was before I got to the part about the owl… I wonder where I can hire an owl?
You can actually hire owls to be ring bearers at weddings 😀 yup…
1.) There is cake, so that’s an automatic point for you, and I can thus overlook the horse. (Not a fan.)
2.) You know how to hire an owl. Very thorough.
3.) Can we both follow your dreams? If yes, is it enough that I’m pants-less or do I have to be completely nude?
You see, actually I am also not keen on horses either….(am actually quite scared of them), however, I love donkeys…. so ok….change horse for donkey and change being knickerless for full body leotard? Possibly in a nice shade of mauve? xx
http://www.theowlringbearer.co.uk/
Check this out! What a hoot… sorry…. deary me…. x
Damn! Missing out on my chance to win ‘stache glasses? Teach me to fall behind on my blog reading!
Long ago, people believed that the world was flat.15 divided by3 equals 5.It rather surprised me.Will you connect this wire to the television ? I’m in a hurry!It’s not as cold hot as it was yesterdayIt’s not as cold hot as it was yesterdayWho ever comes will be welcomed.Would you like a cup of tea? Hi!