It’s Friday—New Year’s Eve. I’ve been at my desk since eight o’clock this morning, trying to finish up a PowerPoint presentation for a sales meeting at two in the afternoon. Half an hour to go.
“Sally, can you send me those graphics, please? The product comparison data.”
Sally works in the cubicle next to mine and is very reliable, usually. Unfortunately, it being New Year’s Eve, everyone is busy talking about the upcoming office party and what to wear—not really focused on work.
“Sally!” I call out, louder this time.
“Okay, okay. I’m right here. Keep your shirt on,” she answers. “I’ve saved them on the server in the Graphics folder. All yours.”
“Thanks, hon. Sorry I’m so grouchy, but the boss is really anxious about this meeting.”
“It’s all right, John. I understand. And it doesn
