To Whom It May Concern,
I am writing to announce my resignation from Under Armour, effective immediately.
I wish I could say that I have enjoyed my time here. When I was hired in the entry-level position of Senior Associate Executive Assistant Director of Digital Communications and Excellence, I was thrilled to join an organization with great name recognition and the highest-quality moisture-wicking products.
I was told that I would be an integral part of the Under Armour family, engaging meaningfully with our valued customers by managing the “unsubscribe” email box. I was energized by this unique challenge but now I see that I was brought into the company to do little more than absorb torrential rejection, like our patented HeatGear® joggers on a Tinder date.
I admit that I was warned that January would be a busy time for me, as New Year’s resolutions motivated subscribers to clean out their inboxes and Marie Kondo dropped her limited Netflix series. I’m not a fool, I knew that not everyone would stick around. But I wasn’t prepared for the absolute deluge of “unsubscribe” emails and the emotions they would bring up.
I care deeply about Under Armour and email correspondence is my passion. With joy and enthusiasm, I implemented the unique “Are You Absolutely Certain You Want to Do This?” campaign, drawing upon my weekends at escape rooms to design a series of increasingly advanced robot tests to make unsubscription navigation as challenging as possible.
I tried to appeal to our shoppers’ sense of human decency with a series of questions to get to the heart of their desertion of Under Armour and, by extension, me. I wasn’t satisfied with a simple “Other” or “I Get Too Many Emails From You,” which stung like a knife through my heart.
Adding options like “I Don’t Feel That I Deserve This Fabulous Deal on Quality Athleisure” and “I Guess I’m Just Afraid to Be Truly Seen” could get to the core of our customer base’s deepest longings and insecurities. We could convince them that they were worthy of the love and 15% discount on our award-winning ColdGear® line we were providing with open, compassionate arms.
And still they unsubscribed in droves. It was like my father leaving all over again.
My manager Craig was utterly indifferent to my plight, shrugging that 80% of our subscribers would just delete the emails without even opening them, so I didn’t need to “take it all so seriously.” I was shocked. I couldn’t understand how an ambassador of Under Armour’s revolutionary UA Tech™ and SC30 Ultra Performance gear could be so blasé. He didn’t even offer any kind of guided company-mandated training meditation or provide complimentary La Croix to help me manage my anxiety. What kind of company is this, anyway? I don’t even have a standing desk.
I’m tired of fighting. Tired of giving my heart and soul and being slapped in the face at every turn. Tired of sitting in an airless cubicle trying to prove my devotion to the sweaty, indifferent masses who dismiss me with swipe of their thumb. Like a piece of trash to be discarded. Like a pair of Target sweatpants.
I hereby unsubscribe from this position.
Best wishes,
Taylor
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