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World of Hurt
Apr. 6th, 2005 10:03 amI caught a cab outside Shipley's and asked to go to the NamCo building. The cabbie started the meter and began flogging himself. It was a very small scourge, but it was tipped with some very nasty barbs; it cut easily through his thin button-down shirt and dug deeply into his flesh. He bled freely.
It was a nice day out, but I was sweating anyway -- job interview jitters. We drove by MacArthur Park and I watched children playing. A group were taking turns twirling each other on the Catherine Wheel, and some preschoolers were playing stomp-tag. A woman in a business suit was walking her husband; she pulled impatiently on his leash as he awkwardly crawled along the sidewalk, wearing nothing but an oversized diaper.
The NamCo building was a large glass box. The doorman was standing on one foot, balancing on top of a short stack of bricks. Two dobermans watched him intently, growling in the backs of their throats, waiting for him to lose his balance. "Morning, sir," he said, tipping his cap and wobbling precariously. I went inside.
The receptionist asked if I wanted any coffee. Ho ho, I wasn't falling for that one. I sat down to read Modern Impalements while I waited. Eventually Jim came out. He was all smiles, and he jabbed my solar plexus before shaking my hand warmly.
"I'd like you to meet the crew," he said, leading me past three people at a water cooler. Two of them had the third by the arms and were shaking him vigorously. They all said hi, although the third sounded a little wobbly.
Jim led me to a conference room. Six naked people were stacked in a naked pyramid on top of the table. They all looked up, but only the top guy was in a good position to wave. "This is Clarence; he's looking into joining us in Internal Audits," Jim said. "Awesome, Clarence," said one guy at the bottom of the stack, obviously a junior manager. "Hey, sorry if we don't get up." We all laughed.
In the breakroom, two stockboys were holding my direct report's head under the water in the coffee bar sink. "Please to meet you, Clarence," he gasped as he came up for air. "We've got a real team operation here."
"I can see that."
There was a TV on in the corner. Some idiot was going on about the abuses in Abu Ghraib. Jim shook his head.
"What the hell is the big deal?" he demanded wonderingly.
"I have no idea," I replied.
It was a nice day out, but I was sweating anyway -- job interview jitters. We drove by MacArthur Park and I watched children playing. A group were taking turns twirling each other on the Catherine Wheel, and some preschoolers were playing stomp-tag. A woman in a business suit was walking her husband; she pulled impatiently on his leash as he awkwardly crawled along the sidewalk, wearing nothing but an oversized diaper.
The NamCo building was a large glass box. The doorman was standing on one foot, balancing on top of a short stack of bricks. Two dobermans watched him intently, growling in the backs of their throats, waiting for him to lose his balance. "Morning, sir," he said, tipping his cap and wobbling precariously. I went inside.
The receptionist asked if I wanted any coffee. Ho ho, I wasn't falling for that one. I sat down to read Modern Impalements while I waited. Eventually Jim came out. He was all smiles, and he jabbed my solar plexus before shaking my hand warmly.
"I'd like you to meet the crew," he said, leading me past three people at a water cooler. Two of them had the third by the arms and were shaking him vigorously. They all said hi, although the third sounded a little wobbly.
Jim led me to a conference room. Six naked people were stacked in a naked pyramid on top of the table. They all looked up, but only the top guy was in a good position to wave. "This is Clarence; he's looking into joining us in Internal Audits," Jim said. "Awesome, Clarence," said one guy at the bottom of the stack, obviously a junior manager. "Hey, sorry if we don't get up." We all laughed.
In the breakroom, two stockboys were holding my direct report's head under the water in the coffee bar sink. "Please to meet you, Clarence," he gasped as he came up for air. "We've got a real team operation here."
"I can see that."
There was a TV on in the corner. Some idiot was going on about the abuses in Abu Ghraib. Jim shook his head.
"What the hell is the big deal?" he demanded wonderingly.
"I have no idea," I replied.
