AS I TORE UP my betting slip from The Grand National (Risk Accessor at, appropriately enough, 100/1 each way – and the bugger trots home fifth), it was impossible not to draw a comparison between the Herculean efforts of the steeplechase jockey and those of us who apply the whip to corporate spreadsheets. OK, the finance function doesn't have quite the glamour of the parade ring. But my Matalan suit (as modelled by Gavin Henson) is nearly as shiny as a jockey's silks. And although we both have a team backing us up, at the end of the day we're the ones who have to produce the goods. Owners, like FDs, rarely get my case, especially when you're on the verge of getting a bunch of spreadsheets to fit .

I don't mind people seeing my work once it's reached a certain stage but I don't like pulling aside the veil for anyone – least of all FD. The jockey uses the whip a little harshly? What the owners and stewards don't see can't hurt them. Trouble is, a couple of months ago FD went off on some course entitled Effective Use of Technology in the 21st Centuary: Don’t Fall at the Final Hurdle. According to very reliable sources (his PA), he'd misread the latest CPD guidelines from his institute and was convinced he was going to get chucked out any second for becoming, I dunno, stupid or something -which is unlikely: the way I hear it, Arthur Andersen himself would still be a member if he was paid up, and he's been dead 59 years. That's the advantage of belonging to an institute that's really hard up... Anyway, some smart-Alec instructor introduced him to the idea of spreadsheet file sharing: real-time accounts production using ODBC (online database connectivity, do keep up) with the supervisor (ie FD) staying in the loop from the comfort of his own desk.

Despite sterling efforts by those of us in "tier two management" – denying we had that function, querying whether it was allowed under Sarbanes-Oxley, claiming we didn't know how to "switch it on" – a call to the legal department and a visit from some 14-year-old IT guy later, we were truly part of the network generation. Suddenly, we're all working on the same spreadsheet at the same time. So much for the veil.

Last month-end was hell. He just kept flicking from spreadsheet to spreadsheet while we were working on them, like some sex-starved shopping mall security guard looking for "dates" on his CCTV monitors. If I hear one more comment about how ODBC "constantly drills down into the finance systems and other databases, it's amaaazing," I'm going to end up strangling him.

The big problem is that he can now see how fast we're working. He's also taken to shouting "helpful" comments on what we're doing wrong. Whenever he heaves himself away from his desk to some meeting, he rushes back after his conflab, hits the "refresh" button with relish and checks progress on the spreadsheets since he's been gone.

In the old days, when we'd produced the month-end package, he'd hang a "do not disturb" notice on his office door and leave us alone for a couple of days while he pored over our efforts, before sending back a few meaningless adjustments to keep us irritated. Now that he's firing off real adjustments in real time, he's won himself a couple of extra days before the board report – time he's using to create more work for us.

There was nothing for it: if you can't beat 'em, butter 'em up. So in a rare move to curry favour – or do I mean shut him up? – I let him into this year's Grand National tip from Gary in the post room. Of course, I stuck to my usual 50p each way. FD was so convinced by my yarn, he put £100 on the nose. Shame he couldn't tweak that one on the fly, eh?