What Dinosaurs Do in Winter

Big companies are dinosaurs. Gigantic brontosauri with tiny heads towering at the end of mile long necks, so far above the feet it can't see where they are stepping. Over-large and small-brained, they trundle and trample, never suspecting the imminent arrival of the mother of all meteors, followed by a long, cold darkness. The business world is a giant restaurant where bigger fish eat smaller fish in a chain ending only with bracken. The bracken is us. We are the bracken. Bracken that gets folded in like pancake ingredients and thrown on a hot griddle sizzling with burning fat.

Let me explain:

It is a cold day in January, the frozen vomit surrounding Penn Station sparkling gaily in the sunshine. The speedy guy with the home-made spectacles zips past me muttering to himself, a tiny bit faster than usual. He always wears the exact same outfit: camouflage pants and special self-engineered glasses, featuring miniature dental magnifiers attached to the sides of his wire frames, sticking out like tiny rear-view mirrors in fan-like arrangements.

I've forgotten my building ID so I flash my Metrocard at the security guard with the dyed mustache. Hurrying down the long, carpeted hallway to my pod I pass the usual bunch. There's the guy who who wears cowboy boots with a large stetson hat over a bright yellow smiley-face yarmulke. The woman with a vast, spherical head and permanent scowl across her too-low eyebrows, an ever-present bowl of candy at arms length, emminating a sound of sugar-crunching that makes my teeth tingle unpleasantly. The creepy guy who quietly comes to stand behind you, breathing softly through his nose and waiting. The fluorescent lighting and computer monitors cast a sickly glow, rendering corpse-like the rows of faces. Glazed eyes catch up on youtube in procrastinating attempts to avoid repetitious and pointless digital tasks.

Back at my desk I see the pop-up message announcing a special meeting is called. We obediently file into the conference room. The managers all have water balloons. On signal, we all start running. If you get hit, start packing your things. The ones remaining dry get to keep their jobs.

to be continued...