The Singular Effect of a ˆPantsuit.
^(the Eighties-cut Grey one, please.)
So, you went out and bought a pantsuit.
And it wore you. All in the wrong places. I am not going to go all ballistic on something that you went all murky deep grey on. That blazer goes better with the right cut of jeans. In the right shade of indigo. Instead of wearing a pantsuit that matches the grey that shades the side of your hair i can see from where i sit. The cocky tip of your head goes unnoticed when you adjust your spectacles, and i wonder, are you really listening to what that guy really has to say?
When you answer in all the right shades of plural, i think, maybe he was paying attention (unlike me), and have all the good stuff behind that very shady grey look he wore today.
Perhaps i was wrong.
Maybe he had something in those eyes that glittered at the sound of the lunch bell (there are no lunch bells at work, even at very evolved startups), but the sound of flurry of people arranging for a meet and greet with the various places you can explore — it’s as if taking your tastebuds out to lunch were a bigger occasion than staving off the energy monster that lurks around in the desks of people overworked with frenzy at where to build this massive thing they needed, like yesterday.
I guess some people take it out on food.
I think socials are out of the question then. When your workplace has it that you are a monster in that conference room, as you are at lunch, and you definitely are behind those glasses that helped you see powerpoint sheets in type zero from behind three rows of seats, the stuff of joy is when you actually get magnification without the bother of saving a copy to your lugged-in laptop. (The downside to fast bandwidth in the office — you are demanded conference tablets & laptops everywhere). I can’t be bothered typing everything. Please send me a copy. Now, in bluetooth?
Maybe you can dongle your tab to me later, i dont think the san francisco office had given me the vpn yet — after 2 whole weeks of sitting here. But that’s fine, we take it out on the cereal dispensers. And that vending machine dispenses some really odd cookies, think you can actually get some form of chocolate chip. But maybe the real experience of being in a quiet modular commando of an office, is the really echoing gossip — your voices can carry across the three departments that actually run this floor. Is that a plus or a minus?
Is it a space thing?
Is it a really odd instance when people get actually wired & weirded out by people who ask for a snickers bar in the middle of the day? Some people burn faster, and just need their chocolate! Hey, you know, the Amazon office actually holds twenty different health bars behind that massive table kitchen counter of theirs. People who think fast, need their energy faster. Why would you keep them far from the pantry? Have you ever seen anyone in the valley jostle their way faster to grab some smoothies from the in-office baristas faster than you can say, are you up for the 2am shift later? (And then watch them make excuses, at lightning speed.. “um busy, sorry.” with a mouthful of cranberry-jam-filled cracker someone bought at half price in some weird asian store.)
Why are treps so weird?!
Why are people who populate these effing unicorn startups so weird. Did i say effing? Are you allowed to say effing here? Is there an effing police watching me? Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. I am toast.
Oh wait, toast.
Gotta go.
