The PRM

Yesterday was the day of the dreaded Performance Review Meeting. The ominous face-to-face cross-examination starring my boss. I was immediately consumed by unpleasant visions of what was going to transpire – I’d sit there meekly looking holier than Jesus Himself while he picks me apart: you're always late, you chew with your mouth open and then burp loudly (btw that was ONE time), you definitely need to get some decent clothes and proper shoes and a new personality while you’re at it…in fact you are a disgrace to the respectable Sales profession, the only reason we keep you here is because you dad knows some people in some very high places…

He had scheduled half hour sessions the entire day to get through all of us. And I was first. Knowing my boss, there was no way he could tell me everything I'd done wrong in the last 6 months within the allotted 30 minutes. Plus throw in 5 extra minutes for the compulsory "encouraging words" like well, at least you do write neat. And I'd be like, thank you, you're much too kind.

As it happened, things were turning out exactly as I thought they would, 35 minutes had flown by and we were still stuck on item 1 of the 10-point PRM checklist. No other person this side of the milkyway can say so little with so many words. He just droned on and on and on… So...also...and…but...because...therefore... furthermore…When he’s done using up the world’s daily quota for the use of the word ‘furthermore’, he spices things up by throwing in an ‘additionally’. And when that’s been sufficiently abused, enter in ‘notwithstanding’. He is truly the personification of one endless sentence.

After a while I blocked it all out, nodding occasionally, trying hard not to stare at a huge flake of dandruff loosely hanging off a greying hair strand. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind I could faintly pick out some English words interspersed with what sounded like a cross between Gaelic and baby-speak: …blah blah bleur OBJECTIVES schmid schnum yakety yak GOALS blurg blub FURTHERMORE bloob hoob TOILET schmick schmuck schplick schmoon DEADLINES itsy bitsy moinch moinch ADDITIONALLY….

But then out of nowhere I distinctly hear the word PROMOTION. It takes a while to register, but suddenly my ears eagerly perk up. I realise the blurred smudge in front of me was actually my boss all along as his face snaps back into focus. I watch his mouth move, but this time I could actually hear the words as they came out. He is saying, "…we feel you deserve it, and you are one of the best I’ve worked with..."

Me?!?!
No. Freaking. Way.
This cannot be MY evaluation.
He just said he has confidence in me! That’s when I knew he has fallen off the deep end for sure. Yup, it’s official. My boss has gone stark raving mad.

I'm generally not one of those excitable types but I needed to keep my cool even though I was dying to hug him and place his face on my bosom while I knuckle-rub his head. But instead, I nodded calmly, cleared my throat and answered, "Oh, that’s nice. Thank you" in a kind of air that said, "damn straight I deserve it" but all the while thinking Holy Shit. Professional standards must have really dropped. In monetary terms, it doesn’t add up to much more, but still, the “Assistant” part of my job title has now been officially and permanently stricken off.
So there you have it. My first EVER promotion.
Weeeeeeeeeee!

**********************

Well, it’s 24 hours later.
The joy has worn off and I feel exactly the same as I did last week.
Nothing has changed. I still don’t think I’m cut out for this sales crap.
I was born a programmer.
Sooner or later, I’m going to have to face up to that fact.