Au revoir, Madame

Evelyne. 
She has been my boss for the last nine years.  A great boss. Not a micro-manager, but an enabler. And always available to back you up, when some corporate muscle was needed. 
The reason why the Mistake Factory is bearable is the fact that I have a great team, and I report directly to a great manager. 

Except that from 6 December, "Madame" will no longer be my manager. 

The higher echelons of the Mistake Factory decided that she would be a perfect fit for Operation Transformation (from employed to unemployed). 

Six months down the line, a couple of cells in a spreadsheet will look not quite right. Alarm bells will be rung. Stakeholders will be summoned. Corporate hot air tanks will be readied for yet another deep dive. Black belts and kimonos will fill a conference room for some serious kaizen extravaganza of gourmet sandwiches and insipid ideas, hot coffee and cold logic. 

People will wonder why those couple of cells in the spreadsheet do not look quite right. Not quite right at all. 

They will by then have forgotten that Evelyne is gone. That she is no longer doing the nurturing that makes happy cells in a spreadsheet. 

Carlos meanwhile is contemplating his impending colonoscopy (9 days to go)