#payroll panic

Every other Monday, the sky falls. And somehow, I’m the only one holding an umbrella.

It’s Payroll Monday™ again. You’d think this biweekly ritual—known internally as "Payroll Processing"—would start to feel routine.

But no—every cycle is treated like an unprecedented national emergency.

At 9:04 a.m., the sirens began. My manager opened with a volley of back-to-back Teams messages:

Hey! Sorry I’ll respond to your message from Friday later.

It’s been so much chaos.

I noticed the COVID hours are not populating under Time Off.

The hours do flow over to the pay result so that is good.

Ah yes—chaos. The theme of the day. The week. The life.

The tone hovered somewhere between apocalyptic and “I just spilled coffee on the nuclear launch codes.” I told her I’d fix it (which, of course, I did). Because—wait for it—I do this… every… two… weeks.

She moved on to her next “emergency” like a firefighter with a flamethrower.

But to her? The chaos is always fresh. Pristine. Like a newborn deer trying to stand on trembling legs in the snowstorm of payroll compliance.

And me? I am the grizzled forest ranger with a mop and a migraine.

By 1:30 PM, I had come up for air long enough to realize:

Payroll is not that complicated.

But surviving the performance of payroll? That’s where the real labor begins.

Also, no—she still hasn’t responded to my Friday message.

For context, I work fully remote. Which means this entire production is delivered directly to my brain via chat pings and emails from my manager— Let’s call her Madam Mayday.

She sees all. She warns of doom. She types faster than she thinks, hits send mid-spiral, and follows up with six more messages before you’ve even opened the first one.