I See Dread, People

Exciting day today, folks!

I’m Trapptin Fly-on-the-Wall, reporting live from the South Wall of the East Conference Room here at Beta Social Media Group.

First, a bit about me.

At age eight days, they call me an elder statesman. I’ve been around a loooooong time and I. have. seen. things. Some of which I cannot unsee.

Still, my range of experience gives me —

Nothing really, but I’m the old fart still standing, so you maggots have to listen to me. Until there’s a Flybook or Flitter, I’m all you’ve got.

Welcome to my show, Last Supper. Because, for us, that‘s probably our next meal.

We have not one, not two, but THREE events today! People are back in the office. I know it’s just nine compared to 300 last year, but — progress!

What’s that? Yes, I’m one lucky fly to get this gig, but it hasn’t been easy for me, either. 2,521 of my ancestors kicked it just this month.

Your loved ones have also been dropping like, well, us? I’m sorry. These are challenging times.

If we make it to tomorrow, let’s all meet at the dumpster behind Taco Bell for happy hour. Five o’clock? Leave the maggots home because there’ll be horchata moonshine!

Let’s get to it.

The breakfast brainstorm session

This morning’s first get-together is the UX team’s Caffeinate ’n Create. At eight, they bring in coffee and the good donuts from Sidecar. I’m right next to Joe, the guy with the worst table manners, so I nosh on donut crumbs flying out of his mouth along with his user stories.

Good times.

The other humans stay out of range and sip coffee, eyes glued to the whiteboard opposite Joe. In a one-hour meeting, Joe plows through three donuts and comes up with eight ideas. Two — one of the ideas and the half-chewed maple bacon— aren’t half bad.

Nobody else in the meeting seems to have much of an appetite for donuts. Or UX ideas. Go figure.

A lot of donuts uneaten, so somebody comes by after the meeting and puts them in the break room. I hear they’re gone in 15 minutes despite Joe’s unwashed paws and projectiles all over them.

People can be squeamish, but they’re also too trusting of their own.

The job interview

At 10 AM, Greta the development manager walks in with a receptionist candidate, a gum-snapping young female with lank, badly cut green hair. She’s wearing an ill-fitting Mango blazer, shipping box creases still in it, over holey jeans with an unfortunately located coffee stain. At least I hope it’s coffee.

Can’t blame her, really. This has to be her first real job.

Greta and candidate sit down, belly up to the table, and settle in.

GRETA: Tell me about yourself.

CREASES, masticating madly: Um —

Five minutes drip by, gum pops keeping time. Suddenly, the gum is free. It flies across the table and hits Greta’s left eyebrow with a wet splat.

She grabs a Kleenex and wipes it off without missing a beat or breaking eye contact.

GRETA: Why do you want to work here at Beta?

CREASES: I, well,

With no gum crutch, she flails. Her mouth hangs open like peeling wallpaper.

Greta’s voice is gentle.

GRETA: There are no wrong answers.

A pause so pregnant, I’d call a midwife. Finally:

CREASES: I have 100 followers on Fakeygram and want to be an influencer! I LOVE this place!

More talk, all of it Greta, and the interview bobbles to its inevitable conclusion. Greta stands. Fistbumps are exchanged.

GRETA: Thanks for coming in. You’re hired. Let’s go see HR to work out the details.

In this talent market, you have to play the hand you’re given.

The hot desker's off-the books Zoom interview

At 12:55, Accounting’s last survivor slinks in, glancing over his shoulder.

Max closes the door, pulls his personal laptop and a sport coat out of his backpack, puts on the jacket, and spins up Zoom.

No one else has joined. He uses the camera to finger-comb his hair and test a few different smiles — not terrifying at all — and versions of “Hello, I’m Max, it’s great to meet you” while he’s still alone.

On the fifth or sixth “you,” another person joins the call.

This one’s easier to watch than Greta and New Receptionist but both have the same outcome. 20 minutes later, Beta’s biggest competitor has a new budget analyst and Max is trading in a grueling commute and hot desk for a five-minute walk to work, corner office, flexible schedule, and twice the pay.

The revolving door at Beta is spinning off its hinges.

From the South Wall, I see a few suits — er, $1000 hoodies — slump by, shaking their heads. It’s a morgue. Nobody wants to work here. Share prices are about to drop into the toilet.

You see dread, people. I see dead people.

Not here, you silly maggots, at the mortuary next door!