The Sudden Energy Crash
Fiona was under attack from all angles. Her inbox? A battlefield. Every email that arrived was a new enemy soldier marching into the fray. They weren’t just multiplying; they were multiplying with purpose, all vying for her immediate attention. The constant ping of new messages was the rapid-fire soundtrack to her slowly fraying temper.
But the emails weren’t the only culprits. Every video call felt like a skirmish on a new front, and she was running out of diplomacy. There had already been two passive-aggressive comments about "efficiency" and "team effort" that morning, and if she had to have the same “discussion” one more time, she would have to enlist the heavy artillery.
Another email pinged. It was yet another request for the same information she’d already provided. This was the last straw! Fiona could feel the angry retort brewing as her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“No. Absolutely not.” She scrolled down, eyes narrowing. “We’ve already agreed this.”
Her irritation was growing with every moment, and just as she got halfway through typing a response, she caught herself and realised it was probably the kind of email she’d regret sending later.
That was the signal. She needed a time-out.
Sometimes, you just have to walk away before the madness consumes you entirely.
She pushed back from her desk, knowing full well that her inbox would still be there when she returned—angrier, probably, but she couldn’t deal with that right now.
She rubbed her temples. Five minutes, she thought. That’s all she needed—a quick mental break to catch her breath, stretch her legs, and revise her battle plan before re-entering the fray.
As soon as she stepped outside, the fresh air hit her like a soothing balm. The breeze was warm, carrying the sounds of life beyond her workday—people chatting, the river lapping against the boat, the occasional bark of a dog. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe.
Her inbox could roar all it wanted, but the battle wasn’t going to be won or lost in the next five minutes. And that email—the one she’d almost fired off in a fit of rage? It could wait. In fact, it should.
She took one last deep breath, feeling the tension lift, before turning back inside. Her chair was still waiting, loyal and cushy as ever. Smug little thing. But for now, she’d bought herself a small victory—a brief reprieve from the chaos and a little physical activity to offset the effects of sitting all morning.
And honestly, she’d earned it. In fact, if she survived this day, she might just deserve a large slice of cake. Maybe two slices. Yes, it was definitely a two-slice kind of day.
