Social Experiment

I was worried about tackling the details of my next job, at an Internet start-up outside of D.C., on this blog because there was just soooooooo much that wasn’t right about the environment that I wasn’t sure where to begin (or end for that matter). I simply decided to write a few things that popped into my head, primarily in list form. But the most important thing to me is that, despite the mayhem, it was a really fun job for a while. It felt fabulous to be a part of something that we all thought had tremendous promise and opportunity. I actually enjoyed pulling all-nighters and arriving home after the morning paper had been delivered (even if I was nine months pregnant) and I loved the majority of my co-workers. We really banded together through thick and thin. And by that, I mean:

• Fists pounding on tables with the founders screaming “heads are going to f*ing roll”
• The assistant to one of the founders telling everyone about items he was expensing – including the alleged, ongoing, “happy endings” he was receiving from his masseuse
• A corporate “meeting” in the Bahamas using VC funding
• The production manager taking kick-backs from his print vendors—including an all-expense-paid trip to FL
• Endless stories that would often begin at midnight and carry on for hours (with the inability for anyone listening to extract themselves without appearing impolite) about living the bootstrap, rags to riches, American dream told with ex-military bravado
• The dismissive hand-in-the-air and “whatever” leadership response to anyone’s ideas—particularly ideas coming from whatever VP or Director was the outcast of the month (very inspirational!)
• Playing favorites—and then switching them without notice
• Finger-pointing and attempting to position everyone against each other with destructive comments—even though we were all really close friends and shared everything with one another
• The clandestine meetings of the VPs and Directors (either behind the gas station, God help us, or at a local restaurant) to vent
• Providing “false positive” news that everyone knew to be untrue—and then remaining clueless to their own transparency
• Shifting direction on a daily basis when the end was near—and a) having everyone scrambling to course-correct and b) blaming everyone and everything (IT, marketing, business development, the market, etc.)
• Worst of all: heaps and heaps of lies between the founders about members of each others’ teams. Bold-faced lies that would come out randomly (sometimes months later) with no recourse available at that late date.

One evening, our boss called us into her office where she had placed everyone’s names from her team on the white board. We began weeding people out one-by-one based on our input. The funniest part was that it was being done with three VPs and two of us, Dave and I, managed different marketing functions (customer acquisition and retention). I finally said, “Well, you don’t need two VPs of Marketing with this reduced team; you should really let me go because our focus is no longer on acquisition.” And Dave responded, “No, you should let me go . . .” and this continued for a while—both of us lodging arguments on why we were the better candidate for elimination. It was the first time in my life I’ve actually asked to be fired. She finally put up her hand, told us to stop, and said that she wanted both of us to stay. I think this was the first event that solidified my friendship with Dave.

The clincher came when, near the end, I was sitting outside on the curb with Dave and our boss came running out of the building with her typical, “get in my office/you guys are in so much trouble” sneer that used to evoke terror. She proceeded to tell us that one of us (and we knew who we were) made Margaret, yet another VP, come to her in tears. It was so completely incongruous that, a split second after she said it, both Dave and I began laughing so hard that we couldn’t stop. It was the much-needed catalyst that broke the cycle of stress. Relief had officially arrived in the form of profound absurdity. We were laughing so hard we were crying. And it didn’t stop. What our boss didn’t know, is that Dave and Margaret had been living together after Margaret chose not to renew her lease in D.C. and were best friends.

An ex-coworker, who remains one of my best friends in the world to this day, used to say she wouldn’t have been surprised if we were all part of some bizarre social experiment captured on film. One where sociologists were studying human behavior under undue stressful conditions. If so, the one thing I'm sure they would have found is this: when all else fails, head toward the margarita machine. And start smoking. It helps.