0930 Thursday Feb 1994
One more day of work. "Hey butt-nut!," I'm greeted in Dave's own special way. Dave is an emloyee in the marketing department under me. He and Sarah have their own ways of getting on my nerves. They are very good at it. Not to mention my boss who maded me nothing more than a figurehead only a scant few weeks after building their entire marketing department. Since then, my will to work here has dwindled. Every decision I make about marketing is shot down by the company's CEO. I've been around the block and I know I'm not that bad! No matter, when I get out of here today, I'm Austin-bound. Scott keeps telling me it's the land of plenty - the second Silicon Valley. I have no choice but to believe him.
2150 Thursday Feb 1994
The car is shuddering and the Rat, my only pet, is getting nervous. He has every right to be as the car sways left and right. "I geuss I should've done something about the suspension system problems before bringing the old bucket up to 80 miles an hour in the hills. I already passed the one cop that is usually on this road so I know the coast is clear the rest of the way there. We'll see what this "Silicon Valley II" has to offer a Houston refugee like myself. I-35 is the next exit, I'm almost there. A few more turns and I'll end up at Scott's place. You know you're there when you start seeing people selling crack on the corners of the streets and the lighting leaves much to be desired. I look over and Rat has calmed, he is sleeping in his cage when I pull into the driveway. Finally, after 3 hours on the road, I'm here. I unload my stuff and lay claim to the chair, as the other new technician lays claim to the couch. Steve, the other guy, looks right at home in the little appartment that I liken to my pet rat's nest. Its time to take it easy and prepare for the next day. Thats the big one - my interview at one of the largest computer manufacturers in the world.
I awake in the morning a little late. I don my J C Penny's suit and make my way to the compound. Come to find out the "interview" I was promised over the phone has turned into a job-fair. "Well, this is interesting!" I join the ranks of the college grads and the wellfare surfers. After a mindless chat with someone who I think called himself "Lumpy," about how wonderful this company is, I excuse myself and make my way to the great cattle processing plant that is Human Resources. After a short interview and a personallity test, my day at the company is over. Unpacking my things at Scott's, I hear there is to be a big party at another employee's apartment. We all get our things together and make our way to the center of town. Finally we end up at Chris and Erik's place. They are two level-two technicians at the company. They are both very respected because they belong to a very elite work team nicknamed "The Swamp."
The apartment is hopping. There's about 20 people milling about, none of which look in any way sober. As I walk through the door behind Scott, I am introduced to most of the rest of the members of the Swamp and immediately one of them asks me the great question, "Hey man.. Want some acid or X?" This was Chris, the respected Level-two tech. "There's beer and booze in the fridge and a tank of nitrous oxide on the porch!" I gladly take a hit of acid and the whole crew comes piling in to see what the smut-god, another Houston refugee named Erik, brought to the celebration. "This is the only film I've ever seen in my life that actually made me gag," he warns as he inserts the tape in the VCR. His opinion is highly reviered as I knew him back in Houston and he was quite the smut-connoseur back then - I can only imagine what all he's got now!. Sure enough people begin to turn their heads in disgust as the screen comes alive with two people deficating on each other and consuming the fecal matter. Well, thats enough of THAT! I walk over and fill a Hefty bag with nitrous and plop down on the couch next to the rum.
Hours of fun and acid-induced confusion roll by and finally, everyone is coming down.
Its about 0530 in the morning. We are all out on the balcony with whats left of the nitrous. The tank hisses as yet another hefty bag is filled with the sweet gas - Will it ever run out?!? My future supervisor is slurring his speech as he takes another huff of the bag and tells us all how proud he is of The Swamp and how glad he is to be a member of the fine group. Suddenly, Chris looks down at his watch and exclaims in a mixture of confusion and terror, "The awards ceremony is in an hour!" Appearantly, The Swamp was to receive yet another award at an annual company-wide meeting. At speeds that would make SAC proud, all the booze is cleared away and Chris brings out his prize possession - his coffee brewer. It seems he bought an especially strong blend for this morning. As the sun comes over the horizon, the hissing sounds of the nitrous tank are replaced by the slurping sounds of The Swamp desperately trying to sober-up for the occaision. Soon, all file out of the apartment and onto the streets heading toward the compound. "Hey man," I say to Scott on the way, "So far, I've been more stoned, fried, wired, and just generally fucked up in the last 24 hours that I think I have been in my life. Drop me off at the apartment." I walk into the nest, still trying to shake the LSD confusion off, and die on the couch. I won't wake up for another 15 hours.
Days later, back at my job in Houston, I am notified that I'm hired. "Finally I can leave this one-horse company and go work for an industry leader!" I pack my suit-case and in a few days I'm back on that lonely road to Austin. When I get there, its business as usual. I go to bed and prepare for my first day at work.
Day one is an orientation. Miles of forms and heaps of beurocratic red tape later, we get to the fun part - the twenty-five cent tour! Our HR droid leads a professional-looking regiment through the heart of the company, "This is our Large Accounts area, they deal with larger customers like Neslee and such. And over here we have our Network Operating Systems group who handle customer network configurations and things like that." This group needed no introduction, seeing the pasty-faced, console-tanned inhabitants. It was painfully ovbious these guys hadn't spent much time with other people out in the "Big Room" which was outdoors. "And here is The Swamp," the droid spoke up, "They are our premier technical support group.
They aren't in right now because they only work at night. If you work real hard, someday you may be able to join their ranks!" I chuckle to myself remembering that night only a week ago.
"And here is Direct Techical Support. Most of you will be going here to start." This is a room a little bigger than a football field, filled with cubicles. I can tell that this place is going to be a real treat to work in. I noticed as I walked through that there is a place in the center that is raised above the surroundings by about 3 feet. Asking another employee, I find out that this is where the "queue manager" sits and governs the office. I can't help but think to myself, "Are they planning to mount a howitzer on that thing or what?!?" The whole place kind of reminded me of the set of Escape From Alcatraz. A shudder ran down my spine as I realized the depth of the mistake I had already made. But that was OK! I am new here and I will try my damnedest to make the best out of things.
Gradually, the group got smaller as at every stop a few people got introduced to their manager and droped out of the tour-turned-delivery train. My time came up and I was introduced to "Joe." Here was my new manager. He was obviously a religeous fellow, the kind you can spot a mile away by the way they move and present themselves. "How're you doing," he asked as he shook my hand in much the stiff fashoin as a mortician. "I'm Joe, and this is the Delta Force!" Here was a guy that was obviously raised to be Jerry Fallwell, trying to be a Jeff Spicoli, in charge of a mediocre group called The Delta Force in obvious imitation of the premier technical support group, The Swamp! "This is going to be interesting I'm sure," I tell myself as I sit down to my pathetic 486/SX "workstation." Looking around I see boxes that obviously contained a high-end 486 system that no doubt was meant for my work-area. I had been rooked long before I had even sat down! I began configuring my system and telling myself "its ok! You'll get your fair-share when the next new guy comes in!"