One particular draft report has been the bane of my existence for the last several months. A decent draft was submitted to me the day of my car accident back in October. I wasn’t properly functioning again until the start of November, and after that it was pushed to the end of the queue by more urgent deadlines for other things (all of which were, with difficulty, met). By December it needed more updating, and the field office duly did so. At that point the boss decided that it needed massive restructuring. I was supposed to do that before Christmas, but couldn’t find the energy. I did take Friday and half of Saturday out of my holiday and completed the restructuring and sent it back to the field for final amendments.
Now the field guy has sent me a response pointing out that he has another deadline from me to meet on 20 January and doubting that he will be abel to meet it if he has to concentrate on finalising the first report in the meantime. Problem is, I think he is probably right; and it’s largely my own fault for not turning the previous drafts round in time.
I hate the way I spend too much of my precious family time in this job working hard to meet deadlines that turn out to be illusory.