DOT COM

I still haven't blogged about the goat sacrifice. I think I've blocked it out.

I was going to, and then the new VP of Marketing, Ryan Aldrich, stuck a gun in my back.

The gun is still in my back. I'm typing this while Ryan holds me hostage.

This may be the last thing I ever write.

See, we're StrangeOffice. The name's outside the building. But Jorgen, who keeps getting promoted, decided that it was vital that we take advantage of the internet boom.

The 2000 internet boom.

Jorgen's a little behind. But he has a theory about it… Actually I think Jorgen may be a victim of inadvertent time travel.

Anyway, the first step was obviously to make our building say "StrangeOffice.COM." Jorgen was insistent about this. Trouble is, the letters are wide enough that they cover the entire facade of the building--from S to E. What to do, what to do.

Clearly, we had to build an unsupported balcony and then paint "DOT COM" on it. Ryan was chosen for this job.

"The HELL?" he asked me. "6 of your last VPs of Marketing have DIED! And now you want me to get OUT on an UNSUPPORTED BALCONY 39 stories above the Manhattan streets? Are you INSANE?!"

"Don't shoot the messenger," I said.

"You know what, man? You know WHAT?! They always say that. But does anyone ever SHOOT THE MESSENGER? No! Well, guess what? I'm shooting the messenger!"

Aldrich had a gun on the premises; he demanded one in his contract--somehow he managed to find out that our six previous VPs of marketing hadn't all taken vacations in Bermuda. Guess we shouldn't have hired a Bermudan for this job.

So now he's holding a paint can in one hand, and a bucket in the other, and he's pointing a gun at me.

"Damn you, Machlin," he says. "Now crawl off this balcony and PAINT!"

I asked if I could make one final post to this blog. He agreed.

He's reading over my shoulder.

"You've finished the post," he says.

He's right.

I really wish I was back at [large bookstore chain deleted].