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Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.

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Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Dear shit-for brains, no-good potential employer:

Posted on Tue, May 17, 2016 at 4:00 AM

I was the professionally dressed, overqualified woman that showed up to be interviewed by you and your partner. I knew right away you couldn't afford me when I walked into your little hole in the wall office. After checking in with the tattooed receptionist in spaghetti straps, I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the whole time you folded your arms across your chest and scowled like the shrewd business-man think you are. I know what side you're on. I see the dollar signs in your eyes. You have no integrity. Yeah, I read your book of regurgitated procedure and I read all about your work you do, and your support of the oppressors of society. I wasn't any better. I was there for the money. It was just a cash job to me. Despite my abundance of talent and laundry list of qualifications, you decided to be a jerk and focus on the small gap in my resume. You asked about it, over and over. I could have had a baby. I could have been hospitalized. I could have had a death in the family. Maybe I'd been travelling. I said, I don't recall what I was doing between 2009 and 2010. But you felt the need to ask again and again. How about, none of your fucking business! Does that answer work for you? You boomers make me sick. You're so entitled - you've never had to experience unemployment or under-employment. You've had the same cushy job for 30 years that you cling to with a deathgrip. Millennials are just as educated as you and we're more tech-savvy; we're just trying to make it in an economy that you boomers messed up! Just let us crawl out of the giant shithole you dug for us and pave our own way. I get it, my skirt wasn't short enough or I wasn't dumb enough to let you steamroll me on a daily basis, doing all your work for chicken feed. —Sorry, I don't work for buttons or for dickheads

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