Yesterday at 1:00 PM, I submitted a routine ticket to add a single IP address to an existing firewall group. It is a change that takes approximately four keystrokes and six seconds to execute. By 3:30 PM, I found myself in an "Emergency Change Advisory BoardChange Advisory BoardA tribunal of people who don't understand network architecture asking why you need to reboot a firewall at 3 AM. (CAB)" meeting, defending the request to twelve directors who do not know the difference between a subnet and a submarine.
The burn-rate timer hit $4,120 before my ticket was even displayed on the screen.
Here is what actually happened.
Because the firewall policy was vaguely attached to a "mission-critical" application, the automated ticketing system flagged my request for executive review. I was summoned to a Microsoft Teams bridge populated by project managers, compliance officers, and a random VP of Marketing who somehow got cc'd on the calendar invite.
Instead of looking at the actual port configuration, we spent the first 45 minutes of the meeting doing a "risk assessment." A compliance manager asked me if adding the IP address would "negatively impact our cloud synergySynergyTwo underperforming departments being mashed together so a VP can justify their annual bonus.." I had to spend ten minutes explaining that a firewall rule is just a digital door, and I was simply letting a known vendor walk through it.
The VP of Marketing then asked if we could delay the change until Q3 so it could be bundled with a brand refresh. I muted my microphone and stared at my monitor until my vision blurred.
Ultimately, the CAB boldly decided to approve the change, but only after assigning me an action itemAction ItemThe thing you will completely ignore until 5 minutes before the next status update. to write a two-page post-implementation impact analysis for a task that took six seconds to type.
We didn't secure the network. We just held it hostage for an afternoon to make middle management feel involved.
Total waste generated: $4,120.
Next time your four-second technical fix gets hijacked by a two-hour committee, don't just sit there. Start the timer.
