The Iron Maiden Protocol: A True Story (That Hasn't Happened Yet)
When Sarah from Accounting needed to update a single cell in a shared spreadsheet—a task that would take approximately 45 seconds—she didn't realize she was about to enter a bureaucratic device so exquisitely designed that the harder she struggled, the more it would hurt.
I. The Simple Request (Hour 0:00)
It started, as these things often do, with something breathtakingly mundane.
Sarah needed to change the value in cell B7 of the Q3 Budget Summary from "$47,200" to "$47,250." Fifty dollars. A rounding error. The kind of thing that in the Before Times1 would have taken less time than it takes to sneeze.
She opened the file.
ACCESS DENIED
A cheerful dialog box appeared, decorated with the company's new "We Care About Your Productivity™" branding:
Hello, Valued Team Member!
We've detected that you're trying to modify a Shared Resource Document. As part of our exciting new PROWESS Initiative (Productivity Routing and Optimization Worker Engagement Support System), all modifications to shared resources must now be submitted through our streamlined Request Processing Framework.
This change will help us maintain audit trails, ensure data integrity, and optimize workflow efficiency!
[Learn More] | [Submit Request] | [Accept Your Fate]
Sarah's left eye twitched slightly. She clicked [Submit Request].
The system opened a form. The form had 47 fields. Forty-two were marked REQUIRED.
II. Discovery of the Device (Hour 0:15)
Sarah had received the memo about PROWESS, of course. Everyone had. It arrived two weeks ago in the form of a 23-page PDF with a subject line that began with "EXCITING NEWS!" and contained three exclamation points, which is generally inversely proportional to how exciting the news actually is.
The memo explained that PROWESS was designed to "eliminate bottlenecks, reduce inefficiencies, and empower our Designated Support Workers to achieve their full potential while supporting yours!"
What it meant, in practice, was this:
Before PROWESS:
- Sarah could edit the spreadsheet herself (45 seconds)
After PROWESS:
- Sarah must submit a request
- The request goes to a Designated Support Worker
- The Designated Support Worker makes the change
- The Designated Support Worker marks the ticket complete
- Sarah receives a notification
- Total time: TBD, but definitely more than 45 seconds
The logic, according to the memo, was unassailable: certain tasks were being performed by people who weren't designated to perform them, which created "knowledge silos" and "single points of failure." By centralizing these tasks with Designated Support Workers, the company would create "redundancy, expertise clustering, and institutional knowledge capture."
Sarah began filling out the form.
Request Type: (Dropdown with 127 options, none of which were "Change a cell in a spreadsheet")
She selected "Data Modification Request - Financial Document (Minor)."
Justification for Request: (500 character maximum)
Sarah stared at this field for a full minute. How does one justify updating a typo? She began typing:
"The value in cell B7 of the Q3 Budget Summary is currently listed as $47,200, but the actual approved amount per the Finance Committee meeting on September 12th is $47,250. This change is necessary to ensure accurate reporting and prevent downstream calculation errors in dependent worksheets."
She clicked into the next field.
A small progress spinner appeared. Then:
Your input has been optimized using our Peak-End Cognitive Retention Protocol™. Research shows users remember the beginning and ending of text segments most effectively. We've streamlined your justification to maximize clarity while reducing server storage costs by up to 43%.
Your optimized justification: "The value in cell B7 of the Q3 Budget Summary [...] to ensure accurate reporting and prevent downstream calculation errors in dependent worksheets."
147 characters saved!
Sarah blinked at the screen. The system had deleted the middle of her justification. The part that explained what the current value was, what it should be, and why.
The part that actually mattered.
Impact Assessment: (Required)
- ☐ High Impact (affects >100 users)
- ☐ Medium Impact (affects 10-100 users)
- ☑ Low Impact (affects <10 users)
- ☐ No Impact (why are you submitting this request?)
Urgency Level: (Required)
She hovered over "High" for a moment, then selected "Medium." The budget review was tomorrow, but she didn't want to be that person.
Preferred Completion Date: (Required)
"Today" was not an option. The earliest available date was "Within 3-5 Business Days."
She clicked [Submit].
The system thanked her for her submission and provided a ticket number: PROW-2847263.
Estimated Resolution Time: 3-5 Business Days
Sarah returned to her desk. She had other work to do.
III. The Two Classes (Hour 24:00)
Twenty-four hours later, Sarah received an automated email:
Status: In Progress Assigned To: Marcus Chen (Designated Support Worker - Data Services) Last Update: Request acknowledged. Reviewing for feasibility.
Estimated Resolution Time: 4-6 Business Days (updated)
Sarah blinked at the screen. The estimated time had increased. She decided to check in with Marcus, whom she'd worked with for three years and who sat fourteen feet away from her.
"Hey Marcus, just wanted to touch base about ticket PROW-2847263. It's super quick—just one cell—"
Marcus looked up with the expression of a man who has seen things. Terrible things.
"Yeah, I saw it. I'll get to it."
"Any idea when? The budget review is tomorrow."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Sarah, I have 47 tickets in my queue right now. Forty. Seven. Do you know what my performance metrics are based on?"
Sarah did not.
"Average Resolution Time and Tickets Closed Per Day. Every ticket I touch starts a clock. If I take your ticket right now and do it immediately, my Average Resolution Time goes down, which is good. But if I take it and it turns out to be complicated—if I need to verify the number, or check permissions, or document the change—then it could take hours, and that kills my metrics."
"But... it's one cell. It would take you 30 seconds."
"Sure, if I just do it. But I also have to:
- Verify your authorization to request this change
- Confirm the source of the corrected value
- Document the change in the audit log
- Update the ticket with detailed notes
- Mark it complete
- Generate a completion report
All of that takes about 20 minutes minimum."
"So you're not going to do it?"
Marcus looked like he might cry. "I'm going to get to it. But I have to prioritize based on impact and urgency. You marked it Medium urgency, Low impact."
"Should I have marked it High?"
"Then it goes to my 'High Priority' queue, which means it gets reviewed by my manager before I can touch it, which adds another day."
Sarah felt something shift in her understanding of the universe. The system wasn't broken. It was working exactly as designed.
The harder she pushed, the worse it would get.
IV. The Compression (Hour 48:00)
Two days passed. The budget review happened. Sarah presented numbers that were off by $50. Nobody noticed, or if they did, they didn't care, because $50 in a multi-million dollar budget is basically a rounding error.
But Sarah cared. Sarah knew. And knowing ate at her.
She checked the ticket.
Status: Pending Additional Information Assigned To: Marcus Chen Last Update: Requester must provide documentation supporting the value change. Please attach approval from Finance Committee or designee.
Estimated Resolution Time: 5-7 Business Days (updated)
Sarah stared at the message for a long moment.
The value change. The documentation supporting the value change.
The exact information that had been in the middle of her justification. The part the Peak-End Cognitive Retention Protocol™ had helpfully deleted to "maximize clarity" and "reduce server storage costs."
They were asking her to provide the information she had already provided, which they had algorithmically removed, and now marked as missing.
Sarah screamed internally.
She pulled up the Finance Committee meeting notes from September 12th, found the relevant section, took a screenshot, converted it to PDF (because the system only accepted PDFs), uploaded it as an attachment, and added a comment:
"Attached: Finance Committee meeting notes showing approved amount. Please advise if additional documentation is required."
New Estimated Resolution Time: 4-6 Business Days
The estimate had reset. Her providing additional information had been logged as a new update, which restarted the clock.
She was now on Day 3 of a 45-second task.
That evening, Sarah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the philosophical implications of bureaucratic systems. She thought about Kafka. She thought about Sisyphus. She thought about how the Greeks had nothing on modern corporate efficiency initiatives.
Somewhere in the dark, she could hear the faint sound of clockwork. Or maybe it was just her imagination. Or maybe it was the PROWESS system, ticking away, counting down to nothing in particular.
V. The Revelation (Hour 72:00)
On Day 4, Sarah had an epiphany.
She was sitting in a mandatory training session called "Maximizing Your PROWESS: Tips and Tricks for Effective Request Submission," which was exactly as soul-crushing as it sounded. The trainer—a perky woman named Jennifer who had clearly never submitted a PROWESS ticket in her life—was explaining the "benefits" of the new system.
"By centralizing task execution with our trained Designated Support Workers, we reduce the risk of errors and create clear accountability!"
And that's when Sarah understood.
The system wasn't designed to help her. It was designed to stop her.
PROWESS didn't exist to streamline workflow. It existed to make needing help so painful that you would simply... stop needing help. You'd find workarounds. You'd let errors slide. You'd accept that some things just weren't worth the effort.
And the Designated Support Workers—trapped in their own Iron Maiden of metrics and KPIs—were incentivized to avoid her requests, because every request was a potential disaster for their performance reviews.
The system had two classes:
- Those who needed things
- Those who were measured on how efficiently they could avoid providing things
And both were suffering. Both were trapped. Both were struggling against a system that hurt them more the more they struggled.
It was, Sarah realized, perfect.
She thought of a story she'd once read about a map so detailed that it covered the entire territory it was meant to represent, rendering itself useless. PROWESS was like that—a system so optimized for tracking and accountability that it had completely replaced the actual work it was meant to facilitate.
The system had become the work. The process had consumed the purpose. The map had eaten the territory.
And somewhere, in some distant office, a consultant was probably being paid to explain why this was actually a good thing2.
VI. Resolution (Hour 120:00)
On Day 6—five full business days after Sarah submitted her request—she received an email:
Status: Resolved Resolution: Change completed as requested. Cell B7 updated from $47,200 to $47,250. Completion Date: October 28, 2025 Total Resolution Time: 5 days, 3 hours, 17 minutes
We value your feedback! Please take our 3-minute survey about your PROWESS experience.
[Take Survey] | [Close Ticket] | [Submit New Request]
Sarah stared at the email for a long moment.
Five days. Three hours. Seventeen minutes.
For a 45-second task.
She clicked [Take Survey].
How satisfied were you with the PROWESS request process?
- ☐ Very Satisfied
- ☐ Satisfied
- ☐ Neutral
- ☐ Dissatisfied
- ☐ Very Dissatisfied
Sarah's cursor hovered over "Very Dissatisfied." Then she thought about Marcus, drowning in his queue. She thought about Jennifer the trainer, who probably had her own metrics to hit. She thought about the system, vast and intricate, optimized for everything except actual human needs.
She selected Neutral.
In the comments field, she typed: "Process worked as documented. No issues."
She clicked [Submit].
The system thanked her for her feedback and informed her that her input would be used to "continuously improve the PROWESS experience."
Sarah closed her laptop.
She had learned the most important skill in the modern workplace: how to need nothing from anyone.
Epilogue: Six Months Later
Sarah was promoted to Designated Support Worker - Data Services.
Her queue currently has 83 open tickets.
Her Average Resolution Time is 4.7 days.
Her performance review is tomorrow.
She is, according to the metrics, "Meeting Expectations."
She has not edited a spreadsheet in four months.
LEGAL NOTICE AND DISCLAIMER
Be it known to all readers, prospective litigants, and weary HR drones that all scenarios, characters, dialogues, and corporate malfeasance contained herein are purely hypothetical constructs, presented "as is," without warranty of reality, veracity, or immunity from HR retribution. Any resemblance to actual persons—living, departed, or reluctantly employed—or to specific organizations, subsidiaries, holding companies, meetings, conference rooms, email domains, job titles, salary ranges, organizational hierarchies, corporate buzzwords, team-building exercises, quarterly objectives, performance metrics, bathroom conversations, water cooler gossip, Slack channels, shared drives, expense reports, parking assignments, cafeteria seating arrangements, or interdepartmental feuds is strictly the result of the reader's fertile imagination and in no way a matter of record, precedent, or admissible evidence.
Should any perspicacious sleuth discern veritable correlations to real-world events, such recognition is hereby declared purely fortuitous, coincidental, and entirely divorced from fact. This disclaimer serves the dual purpose of (a) shielding yours truly from frivolous lawsuits, needless performance improvement plans, and impromptu"we need to talk" meetings that could easily inspire an entire future blog post, and (b) maintaining plausible deniability for all parties involved.
Reader discretion is advised. The author assumes no liability for occupational hazards incurred through excessive pattern recognition.