the weekly near-death experience

Every Tuesday at 2 p.m. I face my own mortality.

I sit across from my boss and for 30 minutes, methodically read off every line of my status report. I actually send him the report in advance of our meeting but he never reads it until I enter his office. He keeps his eyes focused on my Excel spreadsheet and makes little notes in the margins. He rarely looks up and if he does, he usually interrupts me to ask about something we already covered in box #3.

I mentioned to him last month that the structure of these meetings was killing me. I loathe meetings anyway but to sit for 30 minutes, or sometimes an hour, and read off a project list (which includes a field marked "Completed") is like having the life force sucked out of you. He got nervous and said he understood, but he really, REALLY needs my updates.

I offered to send him my status report a day in advance so he could have time to digest it before we meet and then we could talk about projects (or even brainstorm ideas) instead of me reading out loud. He doesn't have much time to do this, he said.

So here I am, prepping my Excel document for another weekly session of Spoken Word Updates. At 2 p.m., I will enter his office, close the door and wait for the life to drain out of me. It's like facing the wrath of the zombies, only this zombie is corporate and wears a suit.

The horror, the horror.