The sun has set hours ago
I’m still at my desk –
Where I was
Hours ago
Scrunch my face up, squeeze my eyelids shut. Open again, same blue screen.
Halfway between “I should do this tomorrow” and “I want to get this done tonight.” Fighting made-up deadlines.
Someone might has well have closed their eyes, swirled their finger in the air, and put it down on a date.
Yet here I am, four hours after closing time, racing against the invisible clock that someone chained around my neck.
Sometimes I miss the days before the pandemic, when an email after 7 pm would have warranted a “what were you doing in the office so late?”
Now, it’s 9:30 and my inbox pings with a new email from some other poor wretched soul, working themselves late.
I type my boss’ name in the CC line – hoping he notices how hard I’ve worked by how late I sent the email. But wait! Maybe I don’t want them to realize I’ve sent the email so late. What if they think I’m slacking at home during the day, and only do my work when late night inspiration strikes?
Fuck it. I’ve put in the work all day – and night. Let them judge timelines if they must.
I re-read my email, hoping the late workday delirium hasn’t clouded my ability to form a sentence. Does it all make sense? I think so.
Add a final “thank you,” in lieu of “fuck you” to the end of the email. Add my name in case anyone’s forgotten who they’re talking to.
Give a quick scan for anything my lazy eyes didn’t catch just a second before. Am filled with an urgent desire to just get it over with, and press send
Swoosh.
Sent: 9:53 PM