Whisper House Press

SELF-EVALUATION FORM:
FOLLOW-UP TO PERFORMANCE CORRECTION NOTICE

Employee: Wexler, Victoria | Department: Risk Forecasting | Cycle: Q3–Q4 Review

Notice: This self-evaluation is submitted in response to the Performance Correction Review filed August 12. Per Shadow Track Guidelines, your candid participation is required to assess personal alignment with expectations regarding physical presentation, emotional stability, and professional conduct. All sections must be completed.

1. Describe your current health, energy, and stamina as they relate to workplace performance.

In full compliance, I’ve been monitoring my condition. The bruising began first. Mysterious blooms of blue and brown, caused by injuries I don’t remember. Each morning in the shower, I slide soap along newly discovered marks. After work, I peel off my sweaty business casual to bend before the mirror, wincing at purple shadows. This morning, there are some contusions in the shapes of fingers pressed deeply along the ridge of my collar bone. I don’t know how that’s possible. I am always alone. No one ever touches me.

2. Have there been any changes to your hygiene, appearance, or ability to maintain a professional presentation?

Toothpaste isn’t enough. Nothing stops the foul oven of my mouth. I dare not open my mouth in the company of others. I have therefore been speaking less than usual. My makeup has quit working to cover the flaws in my face; the pits continue to deepen and the discoloration spreads. Foundation pools in the hollows beneath my eyes. The pink pigments brushed onto my cheeks and lips no longer blend; they streak and cake like clown paint on my graying skin. I’ve reviewed company guidelines on grooming, but they don’t address product failure of this kind.

3. Are you maintaining appropriate eating habits and workplace etiquette during meal periods?

I think they’ve changed coffee brands at the office to something cheaper. Something tasteless. Even the six-dollar espresso at the lobby café is like dishwater in my mouth. In the last few weeks, I’ve tried every lunch spot in a five-mile radius of the office and can’t keep anything down. Sugar, salt, or pepper—it all repulses, churning to bile and spat out later in splashes of electric orange. And yet, I am so hungry. I’ve been avoiding shared breakroom spaces when possible so as not to disrupt others with the sounds I can’t always swallow back.

4. Describe your sleep habits. Are you well-rested and alert during working hours?

I don’t dream anymore. In fact, I don’t sleep. At night, I fold into a clot of damp sheets and close my eyes. I open them to the sound of keys clacking, my fingertips pushing letters and numbers without thought, only urgency. My hands are two spiders tap-dancing and I tell them to stop—they do not obey. There is a screen in front of me, a glowing block of data that I do not understand. That’s when I realize I am at work, though I don’t remember how I got here. I no longer know which days are which. But I’m present for every shift.

5. Have you had any recent restroom-related incidents or other health concerns? Please describe.

I experienced an alarming incident of incontinence recently. I left the area immediately after cleaning the space thoroughly. First, something groaned, deep inside of me. A heavy, coiled chain shifted in my lower half. A shudder moved down my core and smashed against my anus like a battering ram. Something escaped. It began with a chuff, like the hot breath of a beast. An ungodly smell filled my cubicle and covered me in sulphureous shame. It should have stopped the room, but no one seemed to notice. I watched for reactions, expecting disgust and accusations, but not a single person looked up from their computers. 

I somehow managed to rise out of my rolling chair and stumble to the bathroom.

Inside the tiled echo of the second-floor women’s lavatory, I sat on a toilet at the end of the row of empty stalls and braced myself for whatever was next. I watched the tight balloon of my belly, skin shining in fluorescent light. With no one around, I tried to make a sound in my throat. It was like two pieces of chalk rubbing together. Too low, too pitiful to draw any attention to my situation.

I lifted two fingers toward the side of my throat, desperate to find a beat, but I let them drop before reaching the skin. I think I already knew it was gone.

6. Additional comments or feedback for management (optional):

Please, stop.  I comply.

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Manager’s note:

Self-evaluation received at 3:37 a.m.
No entry badge scan recorded.
Forwarded to: Department of Human Integration.
Status: Review Pending.