99% figment. 1% imaginationEven thogh we all know its August this is
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Then all of a suddon out of no where a hacky sack flies into my cube and lands in my cup of tea spillin it everywhere. The donkeytoothed guy fishes it out with his bear hands and throws it, and there is Prince Charls stickin his grinning head up from anothor cube about 20 feet away. He laughs, and ducks, and then throws a handfull of somthin in my cube, splattoring on the wall hitting both the other consultent and also me right in my face. They are giant purple grapes. One of them hits my monnitor and slowly slides off in a trail of juice. There is friggin snoggy lookin grape meat everywhere.
"Clean this effin place up were goin outside to have a smoke," one of them said.
First we were a company that entertained. Next we were a compeny that "edutained," and then after that, "Infotained" and finaly, "Infotrained.
They changed that to "I-tainment, (and then iTainment), and then (you guesed it), "eTainment."
Oh, I allmost forgot: "Ultratainment." The consultent who came up with THAT one is still ultrataining his fat ass in Cancun on what he got paid and that was a year ago. (After this we became a content compeny, but that lasted only a short time becuase one of the investors, somone who admits that he "fears and hates computers" didnt like the word "content;" ...personaly, I think it was cause he didnt know what the word meant.)
After they got rid of content they just wanted to be a "portal," and then after this a "microportol" and aftor that, a "community" and then, a "macrocommunity."
(I also remembor one breif anti-web minimalist period arround this time where they wanted to be a web company that sold, produced, and did absolutley nothing; we were going to be, "The company about nothing." I think it was becuase one of the investors watched Seinfeld the night before. That concept didnt work out).
Then it was on to concentrait on retail, e-tail, c-tail, i-tail, EDI-tail, Push, Pull, Intramediate, eMediate, disintermediate, inter- and intra -disintermediate, and then just plain "value add" whatevor the hell that means.
Well, the compeny still hasnt made a friggin nickle. And we still havent rolled nothin out lately neither. And whatever it is we're gonna rollout, we bettor find out what it is, and do it fast, and roll it the hell out as fast as we can....
At least thats what our investors told our consultents to tell our managers to tell us.
Becuase the freakin deadline for the damn IPO is comin up.
And then the consultent screamed back, "I cant tell you what to do!!", and Fluffy said, "Yes you CAN, and you MUST: Because you are the CONSULTENT."
Then they got into this huge fight abbout how the consultents allways "tell us what to do" when it concerns replacing staff with there freinds, but refuse to tell us what to do that will make us a profit.
"We cant promise you anything," the consultent said to Fluffy. And then Fluffy said to him, "Then what the hell are you doin here?
Right aftor this my pain in the ass boss, the toadfaced lady jumped in and treid to get evereyone to calm down. One of the regulor employees, this fat Russian programer started yelling, and then weeping. I work in the friggin zoo i swear it.
Since launching the giant load Granfather was slowley regaining his strength but it woud be a while before he was 100% better. For his own good, he kept the cardbord cone on his neck.
It is always traumattic to take Granfather to the doctor. But worst of all: In order to get the time off I had to take a UNPAID personal day from work. It is not fair.
To prepaire for the Thursday apointment the doctor insisted that I sit Granfather in the sun for a few early morning hours on Wendsday to air him out on those clammy areas.
"YEH, WELL I AIN'T SITTIN' IN THE SUN TOMORROW."
I said to him, "Granfather you do not have a say in the mattor."
"OH YEH? WELL NOW I AIN'T EVEN GOIN TO THE DOCTOR AT ALL."
I started to espond but the cruel ogre cut me off an said, "ONE MORE WORD, AN' I'LL START BITCH-SLAPPIN' YOU."
After this me and him got in a big fight. Argeuing with Granfather is allways a waste of time. He usualy wins the argumment, but on the rare ocasions he does not, the old basterd always gets his pound of flesh. Ive never ended an argoument with him where I was not crying.
He screams and spits and his screams are allways so bloodcourdling. Then he hits me. It is so houmiliating. It is not that the hitting hurts, it is just so houmilliating. Granfather always hits me with small stupid things too, so in case I call the sheriff on him, I will haveto admit, "Yes, Sheriff, Granfather hit me with that teaspoon. Then he winged arround that tiny box of dentol floss at me."
Granfather does this all on purpoce.