I Done F’d Up. F’d Up Bad
Not a Medium member? No problem. Read free here.
I done F’d up. F’d up bad. Not one of those my-boss-will-be-pissed screw ups. I’m talking a full-blown potentially-stock-altering mess like the ones we read about. Only, this one never made it to the papers. It was the worst mistake I ever made in my career.
Without further ado, here’s a true story told with a pinch of artistic freedom.
Five-hundred miles from home after a hastily-scheduled trip, I walk that long corridor to the executioners block. Palms sweating. Heart pounding. Surely everyone walking by those drab conference rooms could sense my distress. That’s the guy who’s getting fired. With each door passed, room 410 grows impossibly further and further away. 403. 404. Will this meeting seal my fate?
Room 405 floats by as if I’m standing still and the building is one big escalator. How could I be so stupid to miss an order like that? When the chip designers need compute servers to run validation, I have to order them. Just fill out the form and press submit. It’s not rocket science. The easiest part of my job. Trust is big in this line of work. If I can’t do that, then no one will trust me to manage capacity or recommend efficiencies. There’s no coming back from this.
