My annual review is coming up on Wednesday. It’s the same day as our company Christmas party. It’s also the same day that my two co-workers and I are exchanging gifts. Also, it’s my last day of work for the week.
Seriously, I am so excited for that day might head might explode.
“Excited for your annual review? Are you crazy?”
Yes, yes I am. I don’t know why but I have the same feeling that I get on December 24th at about 9:00 PM when I realize I will have a sock full of goodies and presents from Santa under the tree the next morning. (Yes, I still get presents from Santa at 25 and that is why my parents are awesome!) That twitchy feeling in my stomach where I am so excited I start to shake like someone put a quarter in my desk chair.
The only part I don’t like is that we have to fill out a self-evaluation form to bring to the meeting. I have never been good at judging myself. I don’t think I give myself enough credit because I like to be modest. And seriously, anyone who thinks they are doing their job perfectly is sorely mistaken. I am of the school of thought that there is always room for improvement. Except in the case of Ferrero Rocher candies: those are perfect. Don’t mess with them. The dark chocolate version that they came out with are no where near as tasty.
Where was I? Oh yeah, grading myself. There is a reason I have a boss. They are there to tell me what I am doing right and what I am doing wrong. Beauty Pageant contestants don’t get to answer questions they make up themselves and give points if they do a killer kick-spin baton twirl. Why do I have to label my performance for the year?
And if I was doing poorly at my job, wouldn’t that we reflected in the quality of my work? Logic would say yes. But then when has the corporate world ever been logical?
So tonight, in between me baking Turtle Cheesecake Tartlets for our baking competition tomorrow and trying to dry my clothes with a broken dryer, I will take a moment and give some thought to how I have been working this year. And I’ll put down whatever I need to. Because, like Stanley from The Office said: “It’s all about my bonus”.
The Office Scribe
"If it's not your butt, don't touch it"
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