More Letters!
Late for the Party
And This Too Shall Pass?
Love the Man in the Uniform
A Morning in the Life
Give This Man a Flamethrower
Being "Sticky" Is Not Enough
Don't Me.Com
Under the Volcanoes
The Cyberslouch
e-Slacking
Stock-Suck
I'm looking down a long, long office, over a sea of faces stooped slightly forward and shining from the glare of their computers. Although I had read a lot about Internet startups, I didn't think reality would imitate the cliché quite so closely. But there it is.
There's a permanent stoop here, the cyberslouch, of people who really do work 12-plus hours a day, and there goes one now. Head low, shoulders pinched and eyes ringed in red. With a little exaggeration, I can see the cyberslouch becoming a dance move; it's that contorted.
This is my first day at work, and it has that "Day of the Living Dead" feel to it. I'm now one of them. Something akin to panic strikes. I didn't have much of a life before; will it disappear altogether?
Long hours are derigueur at startups, because the Internet has created an entrepreneurial stampede, a hoof-pounding race for wealth.
It's hard to admit you're greedy. But let's admit it. The potential to make lots of money fast is the underlying drive here and the justification for logging all those hours. I knew that. That's why I sought out a pre-IPO. But now. Wow. I wonder. And wait.
Have I got what it takes to be a netslave?
-- Anonymous
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