performance_review past "it's an art form," he said twirling his pen like his fingers where miniature drum majors, "a true and proper craft. not just anyone can write a self-promoting truth in that perfect, detached, passive voice and get their superiors to sign off on it." he paused, looked at the camera and brought his pen down on his desk rhythmically, "mais, mon ami, on doit play the part well in this and you will go far. do not be one of wonka's greedy children. no do not be his little tricksters either. le petit charlie, mon ami, is your role model. et son grand-père." a wicked grin lit up his face, he nodded. a blurred halo around his head betrayed that his habitual background was not real this time. a careful man, he took a picture of his home office, just so, so when he is elsewhere no one would be the wiser if they didn't catch the phantom flickers in his hair. the pen danced again, his brows furrowed as he searched for a document, his eyes focused away from the camera showing he opened something over the call. "donc the competencies grid. this is your good book. c'est la main invisible de pouvoir institutionnel. nous, toi et moi, allons crack the code to success." his eyes returned to mine. he sighed deeply, the decades in management showing heavy in his eyes now, the habitual mischievous twinkle temporarily extinguished. "i so very much hate this bullshit. you know for five years i tricked the bosses into letting me skip it entirely. un age d'or that was. we were all of us so happy. but rules exist to bind us." "ok. allons-y, to the future and success," a pause, that wicked grin back as he got ready to crack the code one last time. 220505 what's it to you? who go blather from