The Commute Appraisal

Ashwin had prepared thoroughly for his annual appraisal. He had listed completed projects, feedback from colleagues and a process improvement that had reduced an unnecessarily complicated approval chain. Then, at the bottom of the page, he added one more achievement.

Reached office on time for eight months.

He stared at it. It looked less impressive than the process improvement, but it had involved substantially more weather.

His friend Latha leaned over from the next desk and read the line. “Are you submitting that?”

“I did the work.”

“Your manager might expect an actual work achievement.”

“He takes the same route.”

She considered this and nodded. Context mattered.

Ashwin's manager, Devika, began the discussion with the projects. They reviewed what had gone well, where he needed support and how to avoid repeating an optimistic deadline that nobody had enjoyed. It was a useful conversation, which made Ashwin feel slightly guilty about the line waiting at the bottom.

Then Devika read it.

“Eight months?”

“Yes.”

“From your place?”

“Yes.”

She sat back. “Tell me more.”

Ashwin had expected a smile and a quick return to business. Instead, he found himself explaining his routine. He prepared his bag the previous evening. He allowed a realistic buffer. Some days he used a suitable shared ride; other days he planned around available public transport. He checked the travel plan before setting off, rather than trying to repair every delay on the move.

Devika asked whether he had simply left earlier and earlier until his working day began in the previous evening. He admitted there had been a point when his alarm felt personally hostile, but he had adjusted the plan rather than treating lost sleep as a medal.

He also clarified that punctual did not mean reckless. When conditions disrupted the journey, he sent an honest update as a passenger or before travelling. He did not pressure drivers, demand dangerous stops or turn the office gate into the finishing line of a race.

“Good,” Devika said. “I am not appraising how dramatically you arrive.”

They laughed. Ashwin felt the line had survived its most dangerous moment.

Devika shared that she had once arrived early after allowing an enormous buffer, then spent twenty minutes wondering whether she had forgotten a holiday. Ashwin said an unexpectedly easy commute could be unnerving. Both agreed this was a strange but recognisable part of their working lives.

The conversation moved to something more useful than praising endurance. Could meetings start with more consideration for colleagues travelling from different areas? Could they avoid judging commitment by the time somebody's chair became occupied? Could a delay be communicated clearly without requiring a small courtroom speech?

Devika wrote down a couple of practical points for the team. Ashwin's commute line had accidentally become a discussion about planning work better. He was pleased, although he suspected it would now be difficult to delete it from future appraisal history.

When he returned to his desk, Latha asked what had happened.

“She requested details.”

“Promotion?”

“Not for reaching the gate.”

“Fair.”

He explained the actual feedback and the ideas they had discussed. Latha liked the suggestion that sensible flexibility should count more than theatrical suffering. Then she asked whether he had included the day he arrived early with the wrong lunch box.

“That was operationally unrelated.”

“It contained your niece's snacks.”

“Excellent snacks.”

That afternoon, Devika sent the team a note about meeting planning and clear delay updates. At the bottom, she thanked Ashwin for raising the topic. Latha read it and asked whether he would add that to next year's achievements.

He opened a new document.

For a moment, he typed Successfully reached appraisal.

Then he deleted it. Even a man proud of punctuality knew when to let a good line rest.

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.