My Two Weeks

Dear Boss,

Please accept this letter as formal notification that I am resigning from my position, effective two weeks from today.

I really appreciate how you've taken me under your wing. This job has taught me so many valuable life skills and I wouldn't have it without you. I knew I was going to struggle to find a job right out of college and promoting me to a higher position after I graduated has been a privlege.

Being an apparel/gift buyer has been a lot of fun. I really enjoy seeing new products and designs that our customers will love and getting to bring them to life.

I have been feeling down on myself from my performance lately. I've been in a mental drought and I hate that it's reflected in the store's sales. My mind has been elsewhere and it's been really hard for me to feel motivated. It caused a lot of mistakes.

I'd like to start by apologizing for making all of the sweatshirts cost $10.00. I thought I was making them $10.00 off. In my defense, I hadn't ever made a sale in the system that was dollars off instead of percent off and I misread what the field was asking me to input. That's no excuse, I know.

I tried to delete the sale, but the sweatshirts were still ringing up as $10, and that's when I had to confess to you that I made a mistake. I was shocked and frustrated to learn that deleting the sale didn't actually remove the sale from the registers, it only made it so I couldn't edit the sale anymore. I find that to be an odd feature.

I am glad that you were able to put in a ticket with IT to resolve the issue, and I am sorry that it got to that point. I created extra work for you, the director of the store, and IT.

This is one example of why I feel I don't deserve to work here anymore.

To clear my conscience, I feel that I must confess something that I did that made me feel terrible, although I resolved it on my own.

One night while I was the closing supervisor, I used my key to unlock the closet that has the light switches. As I was turning off the lights, the director started speaking to me, and I left the closet and followed her to the warehouse so she could show me something.

I had left the key in the door. Yes, the master key—the one that opens every door, safe, and register in the building. I realized it as I was trying to fall asleep later that night.

I spent hours seeing if I could access the store's cameras, when we used to have access, to double check if the key was in the door. I had no luck logging in.

When the cameras failed me, I drove to the store at 5:00 AM and waited in my car, staking out the entrance. I managed to slip inside the moment the doors were unlocked and retrieve the key before the lights were even turned on.

To this day, I don't think anybody knows that it happened.

Anyway, needless to say, this job makes me feel heavy imposter syndrome. You've trusted me with so much money, merchandise, employees, and responsibility. Honestly, it is too much pressure for me.

I have decided to transition into a role with significantly lower stakes, one where a mental drought doesn't result in a security breach or a total liquidation of merchandise. My last day will be Friday, May 1st.

Sincerely,

Sasha Klein