The Death March

I'm on my bus ride home. It's getting dark so early... Already it's practically dark. So I'm left to reflect on my day of meetings and time well or not well spent.

Once in a while in this business you encounter a project that feels like a perp walk to the gas chamber: the death march.

Every meeting, every status report, every owner presentation leaves you feeling like a whore simply going through the motions while the John expects genuine pleasure and delight. Painted with precision to hide the tiny cuts and bruises that tell the real story of the state of things.

Everyone knows it. Everyone plays along with the ruse. It's a risky little game.


sent from my wireless blackberry handheld