Am I the only one who experiences a specific physiological shift when faced with the prospect of minor professional disapproval? It’s almost like a vasovagal response, but instead of losing consciousness, I simply lose the ability to say no. I’m currently sitting in my kitchen at 2:44 AM, the glow from my laptop the only light in this corner of the suburbs, staring at three "high-priority" spreadsheets for Dave. Dave is my senior manager. He drives an Audi that is always suspiciously clean and possesses a smile that doesn't quite reach his ocular muscles. Yesterday, he leaned against my cubicle and asked if I could "take a look" at these data sets over the weekend to help him out. I watched his expression...