I came in to work today to find out the assbag that’s been making my life hell for the past 3 years has quit! 
I understand “quit” might be an oversimplification of the issue. Suffice it to say, however, that I feel like a giant butthole-shaped weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
So, because I don’t work with you anymore, you giant butthole…this Pitting’s for you. Buckle up, shitpile.
I started working with you about 3 years ago, when I was in charge of Financial Services. You were a sales manager at the time, and I was assigned to work your reps’ accounts, making sure that the appropriate levels of credit were being extended to each. Many were the times I went out of my way for you. Many were the times I bent or lightly-damaged the rules, just to gain more business share for you.
Each and every time, however, you treated me like a second-class citizen. You talked about me behind my back. Your team members were poisoned by your inbred, asinine tendencies. I was painted to be Johnny Jerkoff, despite my every desire to be liked and accepted.
A year later, I got a job offer to work in the Training Department. As it turned out, the only people in the company you had less respect for than the Credit Team were the trainers. Your team was consistently surly, unattentive, demanding, and dickholish at every training conducted. You did not care, because you didn’t even care enough to show up to trainings. All the while, you told your team to “not even bother” showing up as well.
Night after night, I would lay my head down upon my pillow, and snuggle up to my wife. Just before R.E.M. sleep occurred, I’d say a little prayer. A prayer for happiness, and health, and continued good fortune for my family and friends.
I would also pray that your sales reps would tank. That their orders would not ship, that their supplies would run low, and their customers would jump ship. I did not wish them to suffer the financial setback – heavens no. But I did wish very intensely that something would happen that would make management think twice about continuing to praise a self-important, snotty, pubic hair-flossing waste of flesh like you. I prayed for your financial and personal ruination.
And today, I have outlasted you. You dickhole of titanic proportions. You have no job. I have no pity.
I’m sure it will never occur to you that people hated you. Salespeople are hired (and promoted, it seems) thanks to a propensity to ignore blind seething hatred just inches away. But ohhh, rest assured, hate you I did. You treated me like dirt, you disrespected me, and you lived in your happy little sales bubble.
Well guess what, fucko?
Pop.
No more paychecks. Enjoy the unemployment line, shitbag. If there’s any justice in the world, I will see you just once more in life, and I will cheerfully smile as I say these immortal words:
"I’ll take a number three, biggie sized, with a Mountain Dew."
Other people’s tales of your Office Butthole’s comeuppance are encouraged and appreciated. 