Dear Next P.H.,

21 Oct

(N.P.H. sounds like Neil Patrick Harris, who is awesome, but P.H. digresses.)

To the person to inhabit this position next,

I pity you.  I pity you, because you have no idea what you’re getting into.  You cannot understand the level of dysfunction in which you will be expected to do your job.  You do not know that you will be expected to work – with a smile on your pretty face – every weekend.  You have no clue all the personal work you will get involved in – whether you’d like it or not.  You don’t know how utterly incapable some of your co-workers will be.  You cannot comprehend what a lack of an HR department can do.

And yet, maybe your future situation will enable you to realize you can do more with your life.  Maybe, like me, you will realize that you can be better and rise above the mundane challenges these petty bastards put in front of you.  Maybe you’ll understand there is more to life than co-existing with worthless conceited young women who aren’t going anywhere with their lives.

It may take you longer than 5 months, but I certainly hope it doesn’t eat up too much of your life.

You are better than them and don’t ever forget this fact.

Make your life worth something more than a paycheck supporting sycophants and unqualified executives.

~P.H.

(This blog will continue…in some form or another…but it might be time for P.H. to get a new title).

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