Annual Report: 2020

Filed: During a Global Situation 


Department of Public Containment 

2020 was the year I adapted to the phrase “new normal,” a term introduced as if it were optional. 

Work relocated to the dining table. 
Meetings were conducted from rectangles. 
“Can you hear me?” became a formal greeting. 

The outside world shut down with alarming efficiency. 
The inside world expanded whether I was ready or not. 


Department of Culinary Research & Improvised Traditions 

With movement restricted, experimentation flourished. 

The kitchen entered its golden age. 

Khairul Aming was consulted. 
Tengku Azizah’s nasi goreng was trialled with diplomatic seriousness. 
Lemang, traditionally requiring bamboo and fire, was respectfully steamed in paper cups. 

Adaptation: achieved. 
Authenticity: negotiable. 

Raya was celebrated just the two of us, accompanied by three fur babies who did not understand the absence of open houses but appreciated the extra food. 

Adudu joined the family — a strategic morale acquisition. 

Succulents were introduced to the premises. 
Some adapted. Some did not. 
A metaphor was noted but not pursued.

Department of Professional Escalation

In what can only be described as suspicious timing, I was promoted to Manager.

Revenue targets remained ambitious.
Projects multiplied like sourdough starters.
Physical meetings were replaced by scheduled optimism on screen.

Leadership without proximity is a peculiar discipline.
You must inspire through bandwidth.

The role expanded.
So did the mental load.

Resilience was performed daily.
Exhaustion was quietly archived.

Department of Internal Affairs

At some point during the year, the body staged a protest.

The thought of district borders guarded by military presence.
The impossibility of visiting family.
The arithmetic of revenue targets versus bandwidth.

The walls felt closer than they were.

I experienced my first panic attack.

It arrived without invitation and without prior briefing — a sudden tightening, a sense of suffocation, a system overload.

There is no productivity framework for that.

Breathing, which had always been automatic, required supervision.

It was a quiet crisis.
No announcement. No audience.
Just the realization that adaptation has limits.


Department of Strategic Escapism


After hours, I relocated to Midgar.

Final Fantasy was released at precisely the correct moment — offering a dystopia with clearer villains and better music.

There were missions.
There were objectives.
There was progress.

Unlike real life, you could save the game.



Annual Conclusion


2020 was the year I adapted.

To lockdowns.
To management.
To steaming lemang in paper cups.
To carrying pressure in silence.

It was not elegant.
But it was effective.

Filed without drama,
— The Editor


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