The meeting starts.
The screens load.
The silence stretches.
And then, the prophecy is fulfilled. Your eyes roll into the dark chasm that is the back of your skull as you hear the host say, yet again, “You’re on mute, Janice.”

It happens every time. The three words that haunt every Zoom call that should’ve been an email. The pause that kills you a little inside. The ritual sacrifice of five collective minutes we’ll never get back.

This isn’t just wall art. It’s the documentation of a ritual failure that defines corporate life. Hang it in your cubicle, frame your home office with it, or keep it behind you on Zoom so Janice never forgets.

It’s brutal. It’s funny. It’s painfully real.