You know those days that start with a bad feeling, a little knot in your stomach the moment your alarm goes off? This was one of those. The sky was the color of a dirty dishrag, and the coffee maker, my one true ally in the morning, decided to give up the ghost with a pathetic gurgle and a stream of lukewarm brown water.
It was a sign.
I got to the office later than I wanted, my damp coat clinging to me. Mark was already at his desk, and his eyes tracked me all the way to mine. No “good morning.” Just that look. The one that says, *I’ve noted your arrival time.*
I booted up my computer. Nothing. A black screen. IT finally got it working after an hour, but my second monitor was declared deceased. “Probably the graphics card,” the tech said with a shrug. “We’ll put in a request.” Mark walked by as the tech said it. “Having trouble, are we?” he asked, not breaking stride.
The day was a cascade of tiny, ridiculous failures. I went to print the quarterly reports for the 10 AM meeting—the printer jammed, devouring three sets of paper before spitting out a single, crimped copy that looked like it had been through a war. I had to run downstairs to the main printer, and of course, I was the last one to slide into the conference room.
Mark was at the head of the table. “Glad you could join us. We were just about to start without your materials.” He took the warm, slightly crumpled stack from my hands as if it were contaminated.
The meeting was a special kind of torture. Every time I spoke, he’d interrupt or rephrase what I’d said into something less impactful. I brought up a concern about the client’s new timeline. “I think what you’re *trying* to say,” Mark cut in, “is that we need to be more agile. But we’ve already accounted for that.” He turned to the group. “I circulated a memo on agility last week. Did everyone get that?”
He hadn’t. Or if he had, I was mysteriously left off the list. Again.
Lunch was a sad salad eaten at my desk while I tried to catch up. I spilled the low-fat ranch dressing right on my keyboard. I spent twenty minutes frantically dabbing at the keys with a napkin, each squishy press under the ‘S’ key feeling like a metaphor for my entire career.
The afternoon was the real masterpiece. I’d been working on a massive data analysis for a week. It was complex, but I was proud of it. I attached the final file to an email to Mark and the client lead, typing up a concise summary of my findings.
My finger hovered over the send button. I reread the email one last time. Subject: Updated Q3 Analysis. Body: Looks good. Attachment: **Q3_Analysis_FINAL_v2_corrected_FINAL.xlsx**
I clicked send.
Three minutes later, my phone rang. It was Mark. His voice was dangerously calm. “The attachment. Open it.”
I did. My blood ran cold. It wasn’t the analysis. It was the draft from three days ago, full of placeholder data and cells highlighted in red with notes to myself like [CHECK THIS NUMBER, IDIOT].
I’d attached the wrong file. In my frantic, monitor-less, sticky-keyboard state, I’d grabbed the wrong version from my cluttered desktop.
“I’ve already had to call the client and explain that we’ve had a ‘technical error’,” Mark said, the air quotes practically audible over the phone. “This is exactly the kind of oversight we need to avoid. It makes the entire team look amateurish. See me in my office.”
I sat there for a full minute, just staring at the screen. The wrong file. The condemning email. The call I’d have to have with the client to apologize. Mark’s disappointed, triumphant sigh.
I finally pushed my chair back and stood up. My foot caught on the power strip under my desk. There was a pop, and my screen—the one that had just finally started working—went black. Again.
I didn’t even curse. I just stood there in the sudden silence, in the dim light of a day that had beaten me, surrounded by the faint smell of ranch dressing and failure. All I could do was take a deep breath and start walking toward Mark’s office, ready for the day to find somehow a way to get even worse.
I told him I was having a really tough day, with a bunch of frustrating challenges piling up. To my surprise, he listened so well and showed real understanding. He then told me to go back to work.
What a day!!!!!
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