Sunday night papers.

I’m knackered. I’m sat at my desk and knackered. I was up all night working on a spread sheet that has just been binned by my boss. He’ll use it of course but he’s officially informed me that its rubbish and our client will never see it. Ever.

I spent hours working on the bloody thing, a long dark silent night of formulas and benchmarking. Each cell cross referenced and neatly ordered to show the general mess this client is in. As the night got darker the spreadsheet got bigger and started to develop a life of its own. Each cell started to talk to each other and there were times when I caught the data chatting about how they got to be in the state they were in.

I just needed to guide them, just prod them in the right direction and get each cell talking to each other. It’s a conversation I understand but my boss doesn’t.