Whistle while we work…or hum

We’ve finally crossed over from the ridiculous to the sublime. I miss those days of yore when deadlines used to go hand in hand with deliverables. Now deadlines loom ominously over a weekend and threaten equanimity while we wonder what the deliverables are.

There’s uncertainty about when the break came, crept up like most things in life. Like a Pavlovian schedule where the dog starts salivating merely at the sound of a bell we are now required to scroll down and across a spreadsheet and back again with an earth-shattering intensity; it isn’t important enough for anyone to enlighten us about the mysterious thing that is due on a certain date, all we need know is that ‘a’ thing is due, that we might be working nights, days, dusks and dawns since the time crunch is IMMENSE.

The immensity of the time crunch will no doubt prompt required inanities from boss to subordinate and will sound like, “How is it coming?” A question that may be answered with a naively sarcastic “How’s what coming?” leading inevitably to a situation tantamount to an escort out the front door, coffee mugs, shoes, jackets and miscellaneously expropriated goodies stuffed in a little brown box…

…It’s conceivable…or perhaps avoidable with a stoic approach to spreadsheet scrolling and trawling to the accompaniment of the slave song a certain six year old insists we hum as we do her bidding around the house.

Bring it on, je suis prêt!

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