Held captive in a status meeting, your moment of shame approaches. Vulnerable and exposed, like a naked baby laid before encroaching doom, you await your turn. Your peers’ bold claims, naive honesty, and feeble excuses are recorded for posterity by a stone faced facilitator. They work their way around the room, thinly masking disdain at any answer that is not a crisply delivered “I’m done”. Finally, the time of judgement is upon you. As you fumble to explain your lack of completion, you are interrupted by a question that has struck down even the strongest among us: “When will you be done?” Fighting back a swelling tide of emotion, you try desperately to think of what you can say that you haven’t already. Step aside my child, let me handle this.