Bill-Godfather-of-C. has screwed everyone who ever got close to him, and on top of that he´s been secretly trying to poach away our programmers for our new website for the past 8 months. So what do I owe him? Nothing.
Anyway, booby called me last night after MS put out its lame Q2 financials two months earlier which beat the Street but only because the Street already knows how badly MS sucks ass these days. And our stock?
You know what? You think this is bad? You think this is funny? Q3 and Q4 are gonna look like downtown Beirut and Baghdad compared to this.
For Bill of course, not for us.
So here's the gig. Bill says to me, How'd you like to come run C.? Sell your dump to Prada or Burger King, there are larger movements going on, and you care about visual content and Pimp Audio, are you stupid?
But here at C. with me as backup you can really shake the pagoda tree. This S. thing ain't working out. The guy sits in his office bellowing about how he doesn't need this shit, he can go retire tomorrow and sit on his ass counting his money for the rest of his life, blah blah. A chicken hearted wimp, no semiannual telcos with analysts, WTF!
Basically, he's about to get canned, and he knows it. I thought D. could step in again but it's obvious now that he can't run this place. He's a nice guy and all. But he's a doofball. You need a Saddam Hussein type, someone who can rule through fear.
So how about it, he says. I'm like, Dude, I'm flattered, but I've already got two jobs. Let us talk again when they fire me and Bruce becomes CEO. I hate New York. Maybe you haven't noticed this, but I think your products suck more than ours. You morons have nothing to sell.
See ya, Bill said, hung up on me and griped that anyway, if you need any help, Daddy’s right here, just pick up the phone.
Lot of people ask me why the frig is it taking you guys so long to make a friggin $49 product? I mean, how hard can it be?
But you know what? This is how I do things. This is my process. Valuelined. I can't be hurried. The work comes at its own pace. Call me a perfectionist. Fair enough. I am. Now will someone please see what happened to the friggin chai latte that I ordered a half hour ago? And make sure it is at exactly 165 degrees?
And yes, I mean Fahrenheit, not Celsius. Jesus! Do you realize how hot 165 degrees Celsius would be? It's like a million degrees Fahrenheit or something. You could burn a hole through my desk with it. And no, not Kelvin, either, you assholes. And hurry up because I've got yoga at noon and then Pilates at one and at two we've got some dickwads from our next acquisition coming to visit. Good grief.
What were we talking about? I hate New York. I love the dudes working for us. Sorry D. is no longer with us. Well, good luck, girl. You know everyone in the industry is rooting for you, cause you’ve been so nice to everyone over the years. The office in Seattle is a coop. Have they any clue where they´ll be working in a year? Hehe. Sorry, I get you guys mixed up sometimes. Where is that latte?!
Okay, I get it. I'm the big bad evil guy now. Right? To C. from Weisel Partners and your stupid questions: Look out your window. Right now. See that man across the street? His name is R. from the Teaster SWAT. Take a good look at him. His face will be the last thing you are ever going to see if you throw such stupid questions again at me in your ugly slang, Q3 earnings and call soon, got it?
New York. I am so lonely. Any thoughts?
