PERFORMANCE REVIEW OF A GHOST
- Jul 24
- 1 min read
By Daniel Sowa
Five days a week.
Forty hours.
Meaningless greetings exchanged like small change
in a machine that gives nothing back.
“How are you?”
“Fine, thanks.”
The fluorescent lights hum
a lullaby for the living dead.
We sit in our cubicles,
each a well-appointed coffin
with excellent ventilation
and a photo of someone we used to love.
Quarterly goals:
Pretend this matters.
Annual review:
Exceeded expectations at pretending.
The spiral of loneliness keeps tightening,
but the dental plan covers
the teeth I grind at night.
I walk through days like a ghost—
unseen, unheard.
A shadow in a world
that doesn’t notice when I fade.
But the health insurance is good.
It ensures I’ll live long enough
to see the next fiscal year.
And the next.
And the next.
Until one day I won’t,
and they’ll advertise my position
before the obituary runs.