mercury ★ in retrograde
Feb 4, 2023 17:15:36 GMT -5
Post by lucius branwen / 10 — fox on Feb 4, 2023 17:15:36 GMT -5
► ► ►
The transformation from corporate baddie to corporate saddie is one calendar invite at nine a.m. away.
I graduate.
I get re-hired at Nervalink full time.
I watch the new class of interns make a day in my life as a Nervalink intern! videos, take sunset selfies on the thirtieth floor, and come in with their matcha lattes. A kid, fresh from his freshman year of school, asks me if I like my job.
He's wearing a suit that's too big on his first day, vibrating with an untarnished excitement, decked out in the newest Nervalink watch. He tells me his parents got him the present when he got the job.
Top of the class, he admits, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink.
Suddenly, I get this urge to grab him by the tartan tie and shake him – ask him if he really wants to spend the next forty years of his life on sisyphean tasks and endless labour, on writing an infrastructure that makes companies billions of dollars by promoting insurmountable desire, on clinging to an ethos that died long ago when man discovered profit in the great wilderness of industry.
He looks at me and I look at him, and our coffees are getting cold.
"The benefits are good."
I push around a few lines of code that changes the latency by less than a millisecond. My tech lead puts an hour on my calendar for the five line merge request and I have to explain every semicolon. On a break in the pantry, my product manager discusses how he thinks NFTs are the next big thing. I think I hate it here.
But the benefits are good.
And I'm repeating it in my head, like a mantra, opening my bank app and reading the payment statements on the nights I work overtime, vaping in the bathroom stall for dinner.
Monday, we get a townhall with the Ads Division. Revenue is down company-wide. Apparently they overhired during the plague and the economy is tanking.
They get rid of the free bottles of sparkling water. They swap out the fancy granola bars in the pantry with generic. There's an outcry in the internal channels over the lack of macadamia nut bars and then there's sensational news articles about the death of tech. Some news reporter claims AI is gonna start writing itself and I bet that man's never tried to train a binary recognition model to differentiate between a chihuahua and a muffin. I heard they've got some wacky high-level stuff for the Games, but it's not like they're ever gonna make that shit public.
Nothing happens for a long time.
But then the next month, we're at the quarter earnings report. They're going over the numbers in a level, monotone voice, but everything on the powerpoint is in parentheses, and I swear I can see the life leave the eyes of the people with their cameras on.
Shit, I think we might really be in a recession but then again, it feels like we've been in a recession since I was born.
Sid texts me.
And what do you know? A week later, We're at another meeting. We're all plugged into the broadcast, listening to our CEO talk and sit in his chair with the Nervalink backdrop behind him and say almost nothing at all.
Sid texts me a skull emoji and then sends me a video that's been going around of one of the board members having their annual private jet party for investors.
Haha.
Shit, I need to update my resume.
There is no way I'm moving back in with mom and dad. I haven't been home since – since Venus.
We meet for lunch and Sid asks me if he should move to District Twelve if he gets laid off because the cost of living is so much lower.
"Babe, you know they like, fucking die in the games, right?"
He chews on his straw. "At least rent is affordable."
I get this feeling on Wednesday morning. It's like I'm suddenly struck awake and it's only six o'clock, but there's a pounding in my head that's like claps of thunder. Somehow, I know some shit is about to happen and I spend thirty minutes staring at my bowl of cereal until the milk turns gray and sugary. A notification pops up on my phone from the internal app. There's a calendar invite with Antonia.
Nine a.m. My manager's with a man I've never seen before. He's got a painful smile on his face that tells me he must be from HR.
"I have some difficult news to share." She says, swiveling in her leather chair. "We had to make some tough choices in the past month, and one of these is the reorganization of certain positions across teams. Based on the currently market conditions and the company's future, I regret that I have to inform you that your role has been directly impacted. I know this is a lot to take in, but Rob here will help you go over the next steps and your severance."
It sounds like she's reading a script.
I sit there with Rob as he starts reading from his script. "Since you've only been working here for a few months, your severance will be calculated based on tenure –" I've got this sensation in my chest that feels like halfway between a laugh and a scream. It stays lodged there, until Antonia stands and opens the door and waits for me to leave.
She shakes my hand and I let her. "It's been a pleasure working with you Mercury. Good luck on your future endeavours."
Damn, she almost sounded human for a second.
Dazed, I turn left, but the security guard steps in front of me. He looks tired.
"Uh, can I go grab my stuff?"
"No ma'am. We'll mail your things to you in five to seven business days."
I think I'm actually choking on that scream. "What? I need my wallet."
He doesn't move from the hallway. Someone walks briskly by me and their eyes are red, sobbing about how they've been with the company for thirteen years. The security guard opens the door for them, and then turns back to me, wearily. "Please exit the building. And hand your badge in at the front desk."
My phone lights up in my fist. Sid asks if we wanna go get fucked up tonight.
I look up at the guard again. I have no idea how I feel anymore.
"Fine. Can I borrow five bucks for the train?"
On the way out, my phone rings. It rings again. And again, until I finally open it and look at the caller ID.
It's Endy.
{★}
I graduate.
I get re-hired at Nervalink full time.
I watch the new class of interns make a day in my life as a Nervalink intern! videos, take sunset selfies on the thirtieth floor, and come in with their matcha lattes. A kid, fresh from his freshman year of school, asks me if I like my job.
He's wearing a suit that's too big on his first day, vibrating with an untarnished excitement, decked out in the newest Nervalink watch. He tells me his parents got him the present when he got the job.
Top of the class, he admits, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink.
Suddenly, I get this urge to grab him by the tartan tie and shake him – ask him if he really wants to spend the next forty years of his life on sisyphean tasks and endless labour, on writing an infrastructure that makes companies billions of dollars by promoting insurmountable desire, on clinging to an ethos that died long ago when man discovered profit in the great wilderness of industry.
He looks at me and I look at him, and our coffees are getting cold.
"The benefits are good."
I push around a few lines of code that changes the latency by less than a millisecond. My tech lead puts an hour on my calendar for the five line merge request and I have to explain every semicolon. On a break in the pantry, my product manager discusses how he thinks NFTs are the next big thing. I think I hate it here.
But the benefits are good.
And I'm repeating it in my head, like a mantra, opening my bank app and reading the payment statements on the nights I work overtime, vaping in the bathroom stall for dinner.
Monday, we get a townhall with the Ads Division. Revenue is down company-wide. Apparently they overhired during the plague and the economy is tanking.
They get rid of the free bottles of sparkling water. They swap out the fancy granola bars in the pantry with generic. There's an outcry in the internal channels over the lack of macadamia nut bars and then there's sensational news articles about the death of tech. Some news reporter claims AI is gonna start writing itself and I bet that man's never tried to train a binary recognition model to differentiate between a chihuahua and a muffin. I heard they've got some wacky high-level stuff for the Games, but it's not like they're ever gonna make that shit public.
Nothing happens for a long time.
But then the next month, we're at the quarter earnings report. They're going over the numbers in a level, monotone voice, but everything on the powerpoint is in parentheses, and I swear I can see the life leave the eyes of the people with their cameras on.
Shit, I think we might really be in a recession but then again, it feels like we've been in a recession since I was born.
Sid texts me.
And what do you know? A week later, We're at another meeting. We're all plugged into the broadcast, listening to our CEO talk and sit in his chair with the Nervalink backdrop behind him and say almost nothing at all.
"The current economic conditions"
"We have to make some tough decisions"
"I take full responsibility"
"We have to make some tough decisions"
"I take full responsibility"
Sid texts me a skull emoji and then sends me a video that's been going around of one of the board members having their annual private jet party for investors.
Haha.
Shit, I need to update my resume.
There is no way I'm moving back in with mom and dad. I haven't been home since – since Venus.
We meet for lunch and Sid asks me if he should move to District Twelve if he gets laid off because the cost of living is so much lower.
"Babe, you know they like, fucking die in the games, right?"
He chews on his straw. "At least rent is affordable."
I get this feeling on Wednesday morning. It's like I'm suddenly struck awake and it's only six o'clock, but there's a pounding in my head that's like claps of thunder. Somehow, I know some shit is about to happen and I spend thirty minutes staring at my bowl of cereal until the milk turns gray and sugary. A notification pops up on my phone from the internal app. There's a calendar invite with Antonia.
{★}
Nine a.m. My manager's with a man I've never seen before. He's got a painful smile on his face that tells me he must be from HR.
"I have some difficult news to share." She says, swiveling in her leather chair. "We had to make some tough choices in the past month, and one of these is the reorganization of certain positions across teams. Based on the currently market conditions and the company's future, I regret that I have to inform you that your role has been directly impacted. I know this is a lot to take in, but Rob here will help you go over the next steps and your severance."
It sounds like she's reading a script.
I sit there with Rob as he starts reading from his script. "Since you've only been working here for a few months, your severance will be calculated based on tenure –" I've got this sensation in my chest that feels like halfway between a laugh and a scream. It stays lodged there, until Antonia stands and opens the door and waits for me to leave.
She shakes my hand and I let her. "It's been a pleasure working with you Mercury. Good luck on your future endeavours."
Damn, she almost sounded human for a second.
Dazed, I turn left, but the security guard steps in front of me. He looks tired.
"Uh, can I go grab my stuff?"
"No ma'am. We'll mail your things to you in five to seven business days."
I think I'm actually choking on that scream. "What? I need my wallet."
He doesn't move from the hallway. Someone walks briskly by me and their eyes are red, sobbing about how they've been with the company for thirteen years. The security guard opens the door for them, and then turns back to me, wearily. "Please exit the building. And hand your badge in at the front desk."
My phone lights up in my fist. Sid asks if we wanna go get fucked up tonight.
I look up at the guard again. I have no idea how I feel anymore.
"Fine. Can I borrow five bucks for the train?"
On the way out, my phone rings. It rings again. And again, until I finally open it and look at the caller ID.
It's Endy.
