Every guy I meet tells me he hates my shoes. The women don’t say anything about it, but they do look me up and down, frown, and pick up their pace, presumably to get away, clicking on three-inch heels.
One guy shouts, “Where do you work, man? Do they let you wear shoes like that?” He disappears.
No one has commented on the rest of the wardrobe, yet. Anyway, that’s the least of my troubles. I have no idea where I am. Well, I know I’m in a huge office complex, but I don’t know why I’m here or how to get out. I haven’t seen any doors leading outside and the elevators go only to certain floors. I’m trying not to panic.
As I scuff along, dodging people in the crowd, I drift from the offices of one large company to another. The firms are much the same except they’re branded differently, of course, and they’ve given different but similar names to operations that perform much the same functions.
Finally, a guy in a slick, nicely tailored suit stops me, puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you looking for a position? We might need someone like you, and we could reduce our recruiting expense and even mitigate our risk if we hired you on the spot rather than posting the job and interviewing a bunch of unqualified yahoos. Sound good?”
“What type of position did you have in mind, sir?”
“We need someone to bring in business, to build up our revenue, in short, to make it rain. Know what I mean?
“I know what you mean, but what’s your offer?”
“You’ll work straight commission; we find that’s the best motivational approach.”
“But I’m still lost in this place; I don’t know how to get out.”
“That’s to be expected. You’ll need a week or two to get your sea legs under you. So look, we’ll give you a handsomely appointed office, a high-end phone, a leading-edge computer, and six months to make some progress. That should do it. If after that time you’ve done nothing for us or vice versa, we can sever our ties with no hard feelings. And oh, you’ll need a new pair of shoes—but that’ll be on your dime. Okay?”
“What’s the name of the company?”
“Greatstuff Unlimited. Undoubtedly you’ve heard of us.”
“Well, maybe. Where’s my office?”
“Back over that way. You can’t miss it.” He fails to point.
Then the guy disappears into the crowd. I begin looking around for signs for Greatstuff but see nothing. Then I walk up to a guard, assuming he’ll be able to direct me.
“No sir. I’m not familiar with that organization.”
“Well, can you tell me how to get out of here?”
“I’d suggest you leave the way you came in.”
“But I don’t know how I got here.”
“Then you do have a problem, don’t you? Besides those shoes, I mean.”
One guy shouts, “Where do you work, man? Do they let you wear shoes like that?” He disappears.
No one has commented on the rest of the wardrobe, yet. Anyway, that’s the least of my troubles. I have no idea where I am. Well, I know I’m in a huge office complex, but I don’t know why I’m here or how to get out. I haven’t seen any doors leading outside and the elevators go only to certain floors. I’m trying not to panic.
As I scuff along, dodging people in the crowd, I drift from the offices of one large company to another. The firms are much the same except they’re branded differently, of course, and they’ve given different but similar names to operations that perform much the same functions.
Finally, a guy in a slick, nicely tailored suit stops me, puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you looking for a position? We might need someone like you, and we could reduce our recruiting expense and even mitigate our risk if we hired you on the spot rather than posting the job and interviewing a bunch of unqualified yahoos. Sound good?”
“What type of position did you have in mind, sir?”
“We need someone to bring in business, to build up our revenue, in short, to make it rain. Know what I mean?
“I know what you mean, but what’s your offer?”
“You’ll work straight commission; we find that’s the best motivational approach.”
“But I’m still lost in this place; I don’t know how to get out.”
“That’s to be expected. You’ll need a week or two to get your sea legs under you. So look, we’ll give you a handsomely appointed office, a high-end phone, a leading-edge computer, and six months to make some progress. That should do it. If after that time you’ve done nothing for us or vice versa, we can sever our ties with no hard feelings. And oh, you’ll need a new pair of shoes—but that’ll be on your dime. Okay?”
“What’s the name of the company?”
“Greatstuff Unlimited. Undoubtedly you’ve heard of us.”
“Well, maybe. Where’s my office?”
“Back over that way. You can’t miss it.” He fails to point.
Then the guy disappears into the crowd. I begin looking around for signs for Greatstuff but see nothing. Then I walk up to a guard, assuming he’ll be able to direct me.
“No sir. I’m not familiar with that organization.”
“Well, can you tell me how to get out of here?”
“I’d suggest you leave the way you came in.”
“But I don’t know how I got here.”
“Then you do have a problem, don’t you? Besides those shoes, I mean.”
