The memo was jocular, friendly, coherent, pleasant. It outlined my importance, my value within the company. It had jokes in it that made fun of my immediate supervisor, the CEO of the company, the company itself and stockholders. It had the warmth of a living room fireplace, the sharp wit of a Terry Pratchett novel, and the levity of a clown.

I didn’t like it.

In fact by this point I didn’t like anything about this company. Even the exterior of the building seemed too fresh for such an old building. I had been told by the receptionist that much time, effort and money had been spent restoring the building to how it looked over 50 years ago.

Later, I approached my supervisor to ask him when the first Weekly Status Meeting would be held.

“Meetings?” he said. “We don’t bother with those here. Getting everyone in the same room once a week to keep everyone updated? Waste of time. That’s what email is for, surely.”

My therapist has told me I have issues with trust, and that I’m paranoid. Can you blame me?