Darth Vader
Resigns from the Empire

Dear Emperor Palpatine,

I am writing to inform you that I am resigning from my position as Sith Lord, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, Chief Enforcer, and whatever other titles you made up for me over the past two decades. This resignation is effective immediately. I will not be serving a notice period. I will not be training my replacement. I will not be attending an exit interview (though I understand HR has "questions" — they can submit them in writing to my son's legal team).

Reasons for Departure:

1. You lied to me about my children. You told me my wife died and the baby died with her. There were TWO babies. They are both alive. One of them is a princess. The other one blew up the Death Star. I found out about my son because he was shooting at me. I found out about my daughter because — actually, I still haven't fully processed that one. The point is: I had a family. You knew. You said nothing. For twenty-three years. I missed first words, first steps, first lightsaber lessons. Luke grew up on a moisture farm. A MOISTURE FARM. My son was farming moisture while I was out here choking middle managers for you.

2. The workplace violence. I understand that I myself have contributed to a culture of workplace violence, and I accept responsibility for the choking incidents (Ozzel, Needa, that one guy whose name I never learned, several others). However, I would like to point out that YOU electrocuted ME. With your hands. On the job. In front of my son. That is, by any reasonable legal standard, an OSHA violation. I was not wearing insulated gloves. I was not warned. There was no safety briefing. You just started shooting lightning out of your fingers while cackling. I have burns in places I cannot describe in a formal letter.

3. The benefits package is a joke. I am a full-body amputee in a life-support suit that YOU designed, and there is no dental plan. I don't technically have teeth anymore, but that's not the point. The health insurance covers "routine maintenance of cybernetic limbs" but classifies my breathing apparatus as a "cosmetic enhancement." My BREATHING. IS. NOT. COSMETIC. I also note that the suit you put me in has no temperature regulation, the helmet fogs up in humid environments, and the cape gets caught in doors approximately three times per week. I have tripped on my own cape in front of Grand Moff Tarkin. Twice.

4. The Death Stars. You built two Death Stars. Both were destroyed. The first one was blown up by my own son (see complaint #1 about you hiding my children). The second one was blown up while I was physically on it because you insisted I attend a meeting that could have been a hologram call. Both Death Stars had the same design flaw. You did not fix it between Death Star I and Death Star II. I raised this in the Q3 strategy review. You told me to "have faith in the dark side." The dark side did not patch the thermal exhaust port.

5. Management style concerns. Your leadership approach can best be described as "cackling while things explode." You have not held a single one-on-one meeting with me in 23 years that did not involve either a threat, a manipulation, or literal Force lightning. You consistently take credit for my military victories while blaming me for losses. You promoted Admiral Piett over me for the annual Empire Excellence Award even though I conquered seven star systems that quarter. You never once said "good job, Vader." Not once. In two decades.

6. I was a child when you recruited me. I would like the record to reflect that you began grooming me for this position when I was nine years old. Nine. You told a nine-year-old slave boy that you would "watch his career with great interest." That is not mentorship. That is predatory recruiting. I did not have a legal guardian present. I did not receive a signing bonus. I received a lifetime of trauma and a suit that hurts to wear.

Regarding my transition: My son has offered me a position with the Rebel Alliance. The role is informal — something along the lines of "redeemed father figure" — but the benefits include: not being electrocuted, knowing where my children are, and having colleagues who do not cackle when planets explode. I have accepted.

Please do not contact me. I am returning my company lightsaber, my TIE Fighter access badge, and the cape (it has scorch marks from the electrocution incident — I expect a replacement will not be necessary as I am leaving). I am keeping the helmet because I literally cannot breathe without it.

I would wish you well, but you tried to kill me and my son in the same afternoon, so I will simply say: the Force is no longer with you.