insaine performance
“Hey Josh, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah boss, what’s up?”
Shree looks around the office and motions for Josh to follow her into the open conference room.
“Am I in trouble or something?” Josh asks.
“No, not really.” Shree shakes her head. That’s not how she wanted to start. She shifts her laptop into her other hand and clears her throat.
“The system flagged for me that your performance score has dropped below threshold for two days in a row.”
Josh ruffles his hair and blows air out of his mouth in a way that always reminds her of when her son was learning to swim.
“You know the rules. If this happens a third day, I have to take formal action. Which I really would rather avoid.”
Josh rubs his eyes.
“Is something going on at home?” Shree asks.
Josh winces a little, so she adds, “Because if there is, I can request a plus/minus two-point buffer, and that should get you back into the safe zone.”
He doesn’t answer so she continues, “It has to be something a bit distressing though. I understand if you’d rather not share.”
“Shree, I don’t know what to say,” Josh says.
She sighs. That will not do. She motions for him to sit down.
“I honestly don’t,” Josh shrugs, falling into the nearest chair. He pauses for a moment. “I’m trying to run through what it could be, but I don’t feel like I’m doing anything different from last week.”
Shree takes the seat next to Josh and opens her laptop on the conference table. “Let me see if there’s anything helpful in the notes.”
Shree opens the Performantics’ dashboard. Their company installed the system just last year after the new CEO went on a tear demanding they modernize all systems. It almost makes her think fondly of their old-school talent management process, where she’d spend hours pouring over employee feedback every three months.
Now she gets a ping at the end of every day with her team’s “performance scorecard.” She toggles to the week-over-week view of Josh’s scores and quickly scrolls through.
“Let’s see…Attendance - no change. Work quality - no change. Efficiency - no change. Goal completion - no change. Responsiveness - no change. Emotional valence - oh.”
“What?” Josh leans toward her screen.
“Well, let me just double click here.” She opens up the Emotional Valence report. “It looks like your negative scores are up 5% from last week. The Zoom integration flagged your last client call for signs of visible frustration.” She looks up at Josh to read his reaction.
“That’s bullshit,” he says, then quickly adds, “Pardon my French.”
“What happened?” Shree asks.
He sighs, “Ok, I was definitely frustrated, but I didn’t think I let on at all. I kept my tone even and eye contact toward the client’s box instead of my own reflection. I feel like that usually does the trick.”
“Did you make any sounds that could be perceived as a sigh?” She hates that she has to ask.
Josh shakes his head.
“Just walk me through the call. We can figure this out.”
Josh looks off into space, remembering. “So, I was presenting this data report that I’ve been working on for two weeks. We’d already gone back and forth in the comments multiple times a day, so I thought the call would basically be like ‘check done.’”
Shree nods, fingers hovering over her keyboard waiting for something useful to add to the notes.
“But of course, they asked for more data. It’s not enough for me to scrape every platform once a week, which takes hours, mind you. They want the raw data on a daily basis across over twenty metrics!”
He starts to get heated, so Shree shushes him, checking to make sure the “on” light on the in-room cameras hasn't lit up.
He drops to a near whisper. “All I said was ‘happy to’ and we moved on. I didn’t show any frustration until we hung up.”
“The Emotional Valence bot picks up on micro-expressions, so maybe it read a flared nostril or jaw tightening. Has your jaw been hurting lately?”
He stares back at her with a flash of anger. She watches as he neutralizes his expression. It’s like a curtain going down. All the personality leaves his eyes.
“Ok, ok. That was one of the best facial corrections I’ve seen.” Shree turns back to her computer and expands a few more cards on the dashboard. She purses her lips.
“What?” Josh asks.
“Weren’t you just tapped as the new mentor for Account Management?”
“Yeah,” Josh runs his hand through his hair again.
“Let me check something…” She clicks through the all-team view of the dashboard.
“Ok, yes, that’s what I thought.” She looks back up at Josh who’s toying with a loose thread on his t-shirt. “Your team’s scores have all increased by 0.5%, which means your performance threshold for distinction goes up in equal measure.”
“What the —” Shree gives him a sharp look. “What does that even mean?” Josh asks.
“It means they’re holding you to a higher standard. It'll be harder to hit your metrics.”
“How is that fair?” Josh keeps his tone even, but Shree notices his fist clenched on the table. He sees her looking and places his hands in his lap under the table.
“You’re telling me I’m getting docked for making my team better? Isn’t that what they want?”
“Yes, of course. But this is part of that new executive mandate.”
“Quantifying our value of constant improvement,” Josh mocks the language from last week’s announcement.
“They recalibrated the system over the weekend. I should have anticipated this was a possible impact.”
“It’s not your fault, Shree.” Josh hangs his head. “I’m just not sure how the hell I’m supposed to do this job without having any emotions ever.”
“I know. Just try your best. I don’t want to see your next paycheck docked for a third offense. I know you and Bri are saving up.”
She pats the arm of his chair and gathers her things. Her next meeting is in 3 minutes, and she needs to run to the restroom.
Josh murmurs that he appreciates her checking in. She feels bad leaving him in an empty conference room, but she can’t be late for a scheduled meeting.
On her way home, Shree scans her employee badge at the door. The scanner lights up green. “Daily Performance Score: +1.” She’s relieved that her impromptu with Josh didn’t get flagged, and rushes to catch her commuter bus.