21C Man, part 7: You wouldn't have it any other way.

[Doktor Howl]

We pulled into Phoenix at about 10 in the morning.  The building was one of those beige brick jobs, identical in appearance to every other building for a mile around.  I absentmindedly wondered to myself how people found the right building in which to report for work each day.  Knowing this city, their homes were similar.  Perhaps they went home to a different family every night.  Perhaps everyone involved had learned to not question why their lives changed every evening.

Felipe parked the Durango, and I got out.  I opened the back door and shook Al's shoulder until he woke up.  He's nearly of retirement age, and he's physically ready for the knackers, if we're all going to be honest about this.

The three of us walked in the front door.  Typical for such operations, there was an empty breezeway with a card lock on the interior end, and a sign in book with a phone hanging on the wall above it, beside a small sliding-glass window.

Al, being the gentleman and rules-abiding type, moved as if to sign the book.  Felipe shook his head at Al, and then looked at me.  I nodded.  Felipe picked up the book and threw it through the small window.  I walked up to the door and pulled the "greeting card" out of my pocket.  It looks like a hockey puck with a small battery case on the top side and a button in the center.  I placed it over the door's lock and pressed the button.  There was a muted "clack" as the magnet in the greeting card overpowered the lock's spring the same way the normal power lock would do when used normally from inside.  We walked in, facing a twenty-something receptionist who was goggling at us.  Folks in their cubes behind her stared.

I have always said that making an entrance is fifty percent of accomplishing your goals.

"Hello, Ms Person", I said, "I have an appointment scheduled with your boss."

"He hasn't got any meetings scheduled today."

"That is his concern, I am very much afraid.  He can of course decline our 'appointment', but the consequences of that would be unfortunate for the future of this company, of his retirement plans, and even I dare say the future employment prospects of everyone," I looked around at the wide-eyed cubical warriors, "in this room.  Ms Person, you might be wise to let your boss - the owner, I mean, not your supervisor - know that the audit team from Tucson has arrived."

"Abigail."

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, my name is Abigail."

"Fascinating, Abigail.  Now perhaps you can fetch your boss thing.  We will be in the break room, having coffee." 

We left her standing there, and walked unerringly to the breakroom.  15 years ago, this clone buildings were in style, and due to the low cost, much in demand.  I could find their break room with my eyes closed.  It's very depressing, actually.

As was their coffee.  Not even Folgers.  Some sort of service restocked it, the coffee bag had that plain white color that says "airlines aren't this cheap".  No wonder they couldn't produce code on time.  Programmers are strange beasts, with particular diets.  Coffee is part of that diet for the older ones.  The young guns drink Mountain Dew straight out of 2 liter bottles, or Jolt if they can find it.  If their diet is allowed to suffer, they find themselves unable to work.

Nevertheless, we poured ourselves a cup, and were about halfway through it when owner thing stalked into the room, looking angry.

"Who the fuck do you guys think you are, shoving your way in here like some kind of government agency?  I ought to call the cops."

"Go ahead, vato", Felipe said.  Owner thing stared at him.

"You may certainly do that", I added, "but that will - of course - end any profitable or even survivable options for your company."

"You came here to threaten me?  In my own business?"  Owner thing was looking a tad florid.

"Shut up."

"WHAT?"  Now very florid.

"Do you understand the term 'penalty clause'?  Do you somehow believe that the contract you signed was with the normal run of wannabes and has-beens that you routinely prey on?  We have ordered a rather complex program.  You have first, signed the contract, and second, failed to deliver the goods.  You have jabbered things at us concerning cost overruns and delays.  You have an explanation for this?"

He looked a little less florid now, but a sneer crept across his face.  A very small sneer, but very real.  I decided I didn't like owner thing.

"Yes," he said, "There have been some unforseen difficulties in producing the code.  You understand this.?

"Yes, I do, and it is absolute bullshit.  You have spent your time trying to obtain new contracts, rather than working on ours.  This stops right now.  You will introduce me to your code monkeys.  My men here will work with them, and we will have that code written this week.  Nobody will get much sleep, I think, except perhaps you.  You are, for the moment, surplus to requirements.  You may feel insulted by this, or put upon in some way.  I assure you that I am the very soul of mercy, but should you feel otherwise, perhaps you would prefer to deal with our chief counsel.  She keeps a room full of bored young attorneys.  In either case, I do not care.  I will have my program files with your help or without it.  In one case you get paid.  In the other case, we shut you down and hire your code monkeys as contractors.  Decide now; call the police, or take us to your monkeys."

He took us to his monkeys.

To be continued.

[LMNO]

I feel a bit bad for Owner Thing.  He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

[Doktor Howl]

I feel a bit bad for Owner Thing.  He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

He's a lying shitbag. 

[Eater of Clowns]

You must live for that moment when all the bluster drains out and these slobs realize that things are definitely not about to go their way.

Can you taste it, by now? What is it like?

[Junkenstein]

Glorious.

More, when you can.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

  I love it when crapweasels have a Bad Day.

[The Wizard Joseph]

All I can think was screw a warrant. Private sector contracts are FAR superior.

Also.. I really want a greeting card.

[Doktor Howl]

You must live for that moment when all the bluster drains out and these slobs realize that things are definitely not about to go their way.

Can you taste it, by now? What is it like?

It tastes like Lady Gaga.  Seriously.