Dear Procter & Gamble:
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
Fuck you for lying to my husband to move us out here. Fuck you for promising my husband the moon and the stars (ahem--so was NOT thinking about their old logo--hehe.)Fuck you for announcing a restructuring TWO WEEKS before we got here but not picking up the phone to tell him. Fuck you for then dragging your ass for 10 months to decide that you really weren't serious about R&D for the pharmaceutical side of your business. Fuck you for being the cause of our second move in one year. But most of all, FUCK YOU for not planning on paying out severance packages until 6-8 weeks AFTER the employees are severed. That means 6-8 weeks from today. Fuckers.
But thanks so much for renting out an Irish Pub a couple of Fridays ago so that all of the employees who have lost their jobs could drink the afternoon away. I am sure they all pulled out of the parking lot that evening, flush with the happiness that good old P&G cared enough to give them a proper Irish send off. Or wake, depending on how you look at it. Oh, lest I forget my manners, thank you so much for the paperweight with the cool double helix inside that everyone got as a parting gift. I am sure it will be the gift that keeps on giving.
Dr. Herr Hausfrau's Pissed Off Wife
P.S. Oh yeah, fuck you for now forcing me to prolong my shopping trips to avoid your products. I really liked my Swiffer. And My Crest Whitestrips.