Dear Self,
Please accept this letter as a formal notification that I’m resigning from my position as Founder/Owner/CEO/CFO/Wearer of Lots of Hats/Only Employee at Startup I Started. My last day will be two weeks from today. Or right now. Or whenever I just decide to delete that Squarespace site that’s seen zero foot traffic. It really doesn’t matter.
Thank you so much for the opportunities for professional development these past few weeks, sleepless nights, and weekends. I’ve greatly enjoyed learning how to lead a team of one down a massively ill-advised path toward a fate of certain failure. I’ve enjoyed every minute of working in this dirty apartment, filled with empty cereal bowls and carelessly strewn-about dirty socks.
With this job, I’ve grown so much. I learned how to make a spreadsheet, and I also learned how to make a ton of mistakes in that very same spreadsheet. Most notably, however, I’ve learned that I really fucking hate spreadsheets. I’ve even grown in other ways I don’t need to tell you about. Because you’ve already noticed in the mirror all the new gray hairs you have.
I’m grateful to have been the Lead Failed Entrepreneur here at Startup I Started on a Hubris-Filled Whim. It’s been a path of complete self-discovery. Without this job, I never would have such a deep appreciation for the profitable idea of being a tiny cog in a giant capitalist machine. My experiences here have been invaluable to my appreciation for what it means not to have tuna and saltines for dinner every night. That’s a lesson I’ll carry with me forever.
If there is anything I can do to help with the transition, please don’t hesitate to ask. In fact, I’ll go ahead and get started on the unfolded laundry on the conference room bed.
Sincerely,
Self
