Walter Miller's Homepage
Togethor with my skills as an HTML programmor, I geuss this sort of makes me a 'Renaisance Man'
Speciel Double Decembor 1998 Update: Part I
Page 4 of 6
Ground Zero--after coming in in the morning
You can allways tell that you are gonna get it (and by 'it' i mean your ass, handed to you by management), when you cannot log in to the network first thing in the morning. When your ID is disaboled, then you are sure that they plan to can you -- because the last thing the company wants is some pissed off person who was just told by his boss to clean out his danm desk to start gettin on the network to delete files off the network too.
An earley dayI dont know about where you work, but arround here folks start to roll in arround 20 aftor 9, and after gettin their coffee, B.S.-ing around while waiting for the servers to boot and perhaps takin a morning crap or else going out to the commiserrey truck in the parking lot for a stale donut, no one actualy begins work till allmost 10. Well at 8:30 on Layoff Monday the whole place was full. Its all kindof funny too becuase management kept denying that there woud be layofs but yet evereyone knew they woud be hapening anyway, and in fact hapening today.
Breif panicEvereyone looked kindof stressed cause no one coud relax all weekend. There was a shivor of panic because no one NO ONE coud log in to the network.
Peoplle were all whisperring, "Oh no! We are ALL layed off!
One of the Emoticons was walkin arround, still with his fake .TXT based smile but not quite as maniacally exagorated and whispored just as low, "The server is havin problems this morning! Remember what we said Wendsday: There will BE no layoffs!"
Yeah rightAt 10 oclock the servers came up and everyone discovored there fate. It atcualy wasnt so bad, only 15% of the site got canned. Some of the people, seeing that they coud no longer log on the network server, simpley filed into there boss's offices to acept there fate even before the bosses had time to distribbute to them their specialy Fed-Exed-from-corporate-HQ Departure Packets.
(Yes, thats what they call them: "Departure Packets." Each one has this up-to-the-armitts-in-B.S. personal letter inside which is adressed to the person being fired that closes with a dollop of poisoned sugary goo that reads somthing like this:
...We hope you look back on your experience here
--and your accomplishments--as richly rewarding.
And finally, try not to view the events of today
as an end but rather a beginning. Remember, you
who will be leaving Cyberblop have actually just
been promoted--yes promoted! To something called
The Availability Pool. We bid you every success.
Yeah right. They bid that you dont show up the next day
stripped to the waist in cammo pants with your face painted green and black with a coupol of yards of ammo draiped arround your neck.
Touchy feely kissy face politticaly correct focus group driven lying basterds.
Like I said, this was the first time ever that i was employed during a regulorly schedouled Lay Off that I was ever spared a job loss. I guess it is statisticoly possible. Even with my abillity to key my name out of The Avialabillity Pool the Big admin server. Which, by the way, had my name spelt wrong on the Departore Packet. How in the world can anyone mispell "Walter Miller?"
Lator, at 11 oclock we had an allhands staff meeting. The two emoticons ran the meeting. They were still smiling, as manaically as ever. We were all intraduced to A New Kickoff Strategy for the Year 2000. The emoticons told us that all of this was very, very ecxiting. And that we shoud allbe as ecxited for this as they were.
The emoticons were in the front of the conferrence room showing overheads (off a notebook PC that Cyberblop payed for), that they prepared in Powerpoint for their daily rate of $1,000 a day each, (or whatevor the hell it is they get paid), but no one was watching their stupid danm presentattion.
Insted everyone in the room was more interrested in watchin the row of ground level windows on our left, where just inches from where we sat, all the newley exiled employees were shufflin past us on a cement walkway toword the parking lot with there arms piled with boxes of personal items and there hands full of desktop cluttor, like cofee mugs from other Year-End Kickoff meetings in times past hooked into there thumbs with the company logo on them and slogans like: "Cyberblop: Ready To Rock The Web in '98!"
"Look that's so-and-so, i cant bellive they got rid of HIM ," peoplle were whisperring.
My pain in the ass bossI wondered where she was because i hadnt seen her. My eyes scanned the room until I saw her. Her normal perky face was sort of downcast. (So were the other peoplle who noticed she was there too, because she had been a favorrite to get canned in the office pool. YES, we have an ofice pool, where a secret spreadsheet is circullated, and everryone puts their name in the boxes of people they think are gointo be fired. And please dont judge us, becuase chances are your office also has some sort of office pool too, be it verbal, or on paper...Or if not that at least youve had the idea go thru your head. Come on admitt it.)
If my boss was still in the room, and not carrying a Sayonara folder then I geuss she was still employed. But the look on her face said that sureley she had been demoted.
By the wayBy the way in case you are wondorring, my name always apears on the secret spreadsheet grid of Those Most likeley to get canned in an Upcoming Re-Org, but you cannot bet on me. It is allways so ovbious that i will be canned, that my name is a FREE SPACE in the center, sort of like in Bingo.
Nervuos distractionThe Emoticons, now smiling to the point that there danm jaws are at risk of irreversible rictus, sudenly notice that no one is payin atention to them but insted are craining to look at the long line of their newly dischardged former co-workers walking past just outside the window. So one of the Emoticons turned off the lights in the room as the othor went ovor to draw the tall plastic verticol blinds shut. As the room darkenned, the plastic blinds clapped closed in the sound of some sort of spooky morbid applause.
"Oooh! Our overheads look sharper in the dark!" one of the Emoticons squealed.
"Yeh, but I can't see my trackball!" the othor giggled. "Heh heh, better find it!," bantered the first, "Or you're fired!"