Curious Incidents of a Flailing Mermaid

Day twenty-six: I quit!

Prompt for day twenty-six: Write a letter of resignation. Quit your day job (at least on paper). Rebel against doing yet another load of laundry. Abandon your post as jack-of-all-trades. Just make sure your explanation is funny and overdone.


To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to hereby give notice of my resignation from my role as an Athlete Mentor. I intend for this to take immediate effect and will, in no way, be willing to work any notice.

I would like to take this opportunity to highlight a few of the reasons I am offering my sudden resignation. I would like to make clear that any efforts to nullify these issues would not be accepted. I am a stubborn person and I would appreciate if you allowed me to keep it this way!

Firstly, you force me to deal with teachers who, quite frankly, make me worry about the future of the entire world. Indeed, a teacher who cannot read a two-line email should not be teaching the future generation. I grant you, the majority of teachers are great. However, some teachers are so useless I can feel my ovaries shrivelling up and screaming at me NEVER to have children. Prior to taking up this role, I was rather keen on the idea of bringing up my own little sprogglet. Now though, after two years of having to communicate with nightmare teachers, I feel it is my duty never to even consider giving birth again. This is not to mention the students you make me deal with. Have you tried working with twenty students for five hours and for not one of them to answer a question independently? That is to say, without you spoon-feeding you the answer first. If not, I implore you to give it a try and let me know how you get on.

Secondly, emailing us daily to inform us of our targets doesn’t really help us achieve them! They are the same everyday of the year; they do not change. Thus, we are unlikely to forget. More to the point, putting said targets in red and bold does not scare us any more! Neither does writing URGENT in the subject lines. After the tenth email of this ilk, it loses all meaning. I promise you, we are working, that is more URGENT. In fact, I’ll be honest, I set up a filter so I would not see them. Although, I think you realised this and started using my other email addresses. I ought to have known that there can be no escaping fake URGENCY.

Finally, you make me sit, for hours, in a really hot and stuffy conference room about four times a year for “training” purposes. This wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t force me to make a fool of myself in front of 30 other Mentors. Take today, for example, I had to dance to and sing the following songs:

Queen - Under Pressure
Tubthumping - I Get Knocked Down
Sister Sledge - We are Family
The Jackson Five - ABC
Tina Turner - The Best

All this was in the name of team building and creativity. Or rather, I imagine, it was in the name of providing your entertainment. I cannot sing. Singing, as far as I am aware, is not in my contract. However, it did not stop there. I was then required to stand in a circle, holding hands with other mentors and attempt to get a hoola-hoop around the circle (and our bodies) without breaking the circle. It was when I found myself stuck in a hoola-hoop, whilst holding sweaty hands that I began to realise that I may never come out alive or may forever be impaled on a child’s toy. Thus, I decided it was time to venture out into safer territories, namely a safer job.

Thank you for the opportunities for professional and personal development that you have provided me during the last two years. I have enjoyed, despite all the embarrassing singing and tasks, working for the agency. It has been interesting to say the least!

Kind regards

Fran