Letter of Resignation

Dear: Mother, Teenaged Daughter, Teenaged Son

I start this letter of resignation with my deepest apologies. It was never my intention to feel I have let you down, and it was also never my intention to cause you undue stress and worry. I would like you to understand, however, that I do not believe I can stay in this hostile environment.

I will begin my list of grievances in an orderly fashion, which may come as a surprise to you, since order is something you are, obviously, highly unfamiliar with.

To the most elderly woman of the two of you, I would like to comment that I do not appreciate being whacked against the sink. Or the tap. Or the microwave. In fact, I find it a wholly unpleasant experience. I’m sure my successor will have a similar complaint, and it would be nice of you to consider the fact that a) you can’t really taste coffee when you’re drunk, please don’t attempt to make it and b) it would be wise to open your eyes first thing in the morning, especially before you start moving around boiling water. It would have saved us both a considerable amount of pain.

To the younger woman, I would like to make a similar complaint. I am getting on in years, and in recent months I have become aware of some physical difficulties. I fear that in attempting to compensate for them, you are exacerbating the situation. When my lid fails to shut, instead of hitting me on top with a fist, do you suppose it would have been difficult to press gently? When my switch clicked off long before the water had boiled, would it not have been easier to hold it with a thumb rather than, again, punching me? I would be less cracked, and you would have considerably fewer bruises on your hand.

To the male of the family, I would first express my commiseration at living with two people who are clearly addicted to caffeine, and then ask you to commiserate with me. I understand that you are new to the concept of making and drinking tea, but would it have bothered you greatly to not copy your elders in thumping me against every available surface? And some unavailable, since the reason for you hitting me on a saucepan still escapes me. One thing I must wonder - really, really wonder - is how did you manage to spill sugar in me?

In conclusion, I am retiring from my position (left of the cooker, right of the sink) due to extensive physical damage caused by my abuse. I wish the best of luck to my successor, and hope that you take my comments in mind with it.

Yours no longer,
The Electric Kettle