Liberation!

Dear Capital One,

When we met, I was young and naïve in need of health insurance and a steady income. You swept me off my feet with the promise of ten sick days, three weeks of vacation, and a business casual dress code. Ours was a whirlwind courtship at first, exciting and new. Sure we went through some rocky patches those first few years, especially when you decided to shut down America One and put me into redeployment, but there were plenty of good times too. Like any new romance, you showered me with gifts and attention: the clothes, the knick-knacks, the roadshows, and fun days.

Then something changed. You changed. The good times were fewer and far between. You kept moving me from desk to desk, building to building. After four buildings, sixteen desks, fourteen managers, and more job titles than I can count, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Were you trying to drive me away? But I know how much you love change. You REALLY love change.

We've been through a lot in our eight years together, and I will always cherish those memories. Except the memories of some of those crazies you made me work with. (We won't get into that now.) All good things must come to an end. So it's time for me to say goodbye.

I've met someone else. He's cute, charming and funny with a winner smile. He's also about two feet tall, toothless, bald, and occasionally vomits on me. It's true love. I think I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Or at least the next 18 years.

I'm sure you'll quickly find some new girl to take my place. All those radio ads you've been playing lately about what a great place this is to work. That's the same line you used on me.

Love,
Amanda