Its lonely at the bottom
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Yes, there's no profits but theres still venture capitol money in the bank. And so we contineu, twisting in the wind to every weak breeze and trendy current that blows our way.
One of the things they love to piss money away on is morale programs. Like many rot-coms they have expensive cappachino machines and air hocky tables and a free fruit juice bar.
It is a stupid company with a fragile corporrote culture that is easily blown by the winds of industry hype and every week (at least) during an all-hands staff meeting in the company audotorium we are all sternly lectured by a panel of angry frowning executtives to never forget how lucky we are to work here in the Exciting Cutting Egde Times of the New Mellenium under all these free-and-easy, casual-dress and culturaly-sensitive corporate guidelines, one of which allows someone's dog to roam free who once when I was out to lunch took a giant crap in my cubical, half on the carpet and half on the powerstrip with a couple of extra satellite peices allover the danm floor.
On this day, a sunny Tuesday we are all assemboled in the audotorium once more, for what we thought was yet anothor one of these Rah!-Rah!-Rah!-it-is-so-great-to-work-for-Cyberblop meetings.
In this meeting Mr. Bouvard, President of the Company showed a few ovorhead projections of the costs involved with putting in his latest project, circulor playground slides between floors. He had seen in a magazine a picture of anothor dotcom in California that has these and decidded we needed them as well.
"Only wussies use the stairs," said Mr. Bouvard gruffley, "We are more cutting edge than that." Meanwhile I havent had a raise in 2 years.
Stu was sittin next to me. We usualy sat in the back row of the audotorium and put our knees up on the seat ahead of us. Stu whispored to me, "Walter--we're all set, for after this meeting."
I said to him, "What the hell are you talkin about?" and he said, "Listen up, you'll see." The meeting takes a deppressing and unexpected turnUsualy these meetings are boring as hell. In this one Mr. Bouvard explained that he was appointing a task force -- a task force for Godsake, to come up with more things to boost morale.
"Morale WILL improve arround here," Bouvard thundered, his baggy pale jowls jiggling authoritatively.
Mr. Bouvard is puffy and paunchy, with a giant pyromid-shaped head and a face like a neckless milk-poached monkfish. He is one of these guys who can get up to a podium and blathor on for an hour about customer relation e-commerce sollutions while the whole time evereyone in the audeince, including himself, are all full aware he is completely full of crap. Yet, under the mesmorizing spell of his walrusy authority, no one (including himself), dares contradict or interupt the pontifficol pompous tirade.
One day I will be like him. In my dreams.
"I am not paying good money to cheer up a bunch of spoiled sad sacks," he glowored, staring unblinking in a wide broad frown. "Morale will go up, and if it does not--Harumph! -- Cyberblop will incur layoffs ovor the next few weeks.
I whispored to Stu that there was a spidor on me and helpfully he poked his little hoof around at my neck but coud not find any spider. But I sware one was there.