I don’t know why I’m even writing this, it’s not like anyone can actually fix it or anything, it’s just… it is what it is, I guess. I’m a data analyst, right? Numbers, patterns, logic. That’s my jam. But lately it feels like my whole goddamn life is just one big excel spreadsheet I can’t make sense of. At work, especially. My boss, Mark – he’s a good guy, really, always upbeat, you know? A real go-getter. He keeps saying I need to be more "visible," more "proactive" in meetings if I want to move up. Like, leadership material. And I get it, I do. The company’s trying to expand, bring in new talent, and I’m just… here. In the middle of nowhere, basically. Everyone knows your business five minutes after you’ve thought it in your head. So you try to make something of yourself, right? Because what else are you gonna do, work at the co-op your whole life? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know. So now, every morning, before those stupid daily stand-ups, I put on this… this FUCKING mask. I practice my smile in the bathroom mirror, try to get my voice to sound higher, more energetic. I come up with talking points, like, actual bullet points, to make sure I contribute. “Good morning, team! Hope everyone had a super productive evening!” I actually said that yesterday. Super productive. Who the hell says that? And then I try to make eye contact with everyone, even the ones who just stare at their screens. I force myself to ask questions, even if I already know the answer, or sometimes especially if I know the answer, just to seem engaged. Like, “Mark, that’s a fantastic insight, could you elaborate on the potential synergies there?” Synergies! I sound like a goddamn corporate robot, but a bubbly one. Is that weird? Does everyone feel this? Like they’re just acting out a part? Because honestly, sometimes I feel like I’m watching myself do it from across the room, and I just wanna shake myself and be like, dude, what are you DOING? And then after the meeting, it’s like my whole body just deflates. Like a cheap balloon. I go back to my desk, shut off my camera, and just… stare at the wall for a minute. The energy it takes to be "leadership-ready" for 15 minutes is exhausting. And it doesn’t even feel like it’s me. It’s this… this persona I’ve created. And it’s working, I guess. Mark told me last week he’s really impressed with my " newfound enthusiasm." Enthusiasm. Fuck me. I’m thirty-eight, I’ve got a mortgage, a beat-up truck, and a cat that tolerates me. Is this really what getting ahead looks like? Pretending to be someone you’re not, every single day, just to impress people who probably don’t even notice you when you’re not performing? It’s just… empty. Like, flat. I should probably be more upset about it, right? But I’m just… tired. So tired.