You're daaaamn right.
This is a picture I took today at my place of business. It clearly shows the elevator shaft leading to the building's surface level entrance, which has been cleverly disguised as a Chuck E. Cheese's restaurant.
Note the lack of an elevator car in the shot. This is due to the fact that we don't believe in things like "waiting" for elevator doors to open. Time is money, and if a guy has to rappel down the exposed, grease-covered cables holding the car up and slip through the maintenance hatch to get into the elevator quickly, so be it.
The shaft passes upwards through the human biological weapons testing wing and the Infinite Monkeys/Typewriters labs. We only have about 120 monkeys and typewriters so far due to the economic downturn, but as the country's finances pick back up we're looking to upgrade to 250 monkeys/typewriters out of infinity monkeys/typewriters. Those Shakespeare works won't write themselves!
Downwards, the elevator suddenly snakes sideways through the sewer system (alliteration!) for about 100 feet before plunging at terminal velocity towards the bottom of a mile-deep natural chasm in the Earth's crust. That's where the break room is located.
This is a picture I took today at my place of business. It clearly shows the elevator shaft leading to the building's surface level entrance, which has been cleverly disguised as a Chuck E. Cheese's restaurant.
Note the lack of an elevator car in the shot. This is due to the fact that we don't believe in things like "waiting" for elevator doors to open. Time is money, and if a guy has to rappel down the exposed, grease-covered cables holding the car up and slip through the maintenance hatch to get into the elevator quickly, so be it.
The shaft passes upwards through the human biological weapons testing wing and the Infinite Monkeys/Typewriters labs. We only have about 120 monkeys and typewriters so far due to the economic downturn, but as the country's finances pick back up we're looking to upgrade to 250 monkeys/typewriters out of infinity monkeys/typewriters. Those Shakespeare works won't write themselves!
Downwards, the elevator suddenly snakes sideways through the sewer system (alliteration!) for about 100 feet before plunging at terminal velocity towards the bottom of a mile-deep natural chasm in the Earth's crust. That's where the break room is located.
Microwaves are for pussies.
My company actually used to rent the penultimate sub-floor of the facilities. We decided to abandon it in favor of much more reasonable rent prices, as well as the fact that mole people kept breaking in at night and eating our janitorial staff. Good sanitation isn't cheap, you know. The ultimate sub-floor, of course, is rented by the mole people.
Photo taken by Phil G. (before he was eaten by mole people) of our children's toy manufacturing area.
Note the preponderance of loose rock and exposed wiring. We have our priorities straight!
Anyway, my job isn't the most fascinating or impressive in the world. That title goes to Steve in accounting. Nevertheless, I hope this little glimpse into the workaday world of corporate America has given you some insight into your own career choices. It also might give you a newfound appreciation of the elevators in your own buildings. You know, the ones that don't fall nearly a mile in pitch darkness before jerking to a stop over a lava lake surrounded by charred human remains.
No comments:
Post a Comment