No matter how crazy the week, Saturday always came eventually. That weekend Allie wasn’t on call, and she was taking full advantage of it by being especially unproductive.
The late afternoon sun shone into their condo patio doors. Derek got up to close the shades. In October, Mountain View could be as hot as August some days. Plus, the light was obscuring the TV.
“Maybe we should go for a walk,” he said.
“Maybe you should come back here and let me finish kicking your ass,” Allie replied.
“That’s just my strategy.” Derek sat down and patted her leg, then picked up the controller. “I’m lulling you into a false sense of security.”
She restarted the game and said in a Spanish accent, “Prepare to die.”
Their two tiny characters walked over the rolling dunes. They were in cloaks, so you couldn’t tell if they were male or female or human. Just tiny figures eclipsed by the immensity of the desert. The sun was coming up and the stars faded as the horizon turned a rosy orange. Derek sighed with pleasure. It was so beautiful. They scrambled over the next dune and saw a small metal pipe poking out of the sand.
“I saw it first!” shouted Derek. They both raced for it.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like a periscope?”
They zoomed in closer. Derek’s little person looked into it, and the screen showed a giant eye looking back. They both fell backward with laughter.
“What is it?” Allie asked.
“Can we dig?”
“Let’s try!”
They hit the sand near the base, but it didn’t work.
“The old shack?” Derek suggested.
“I don’t remember anything there.”
“Oh, c’mon, this isn’t working.”
“You go, I’ll keep trying.”
Derek’s avatar, a squat bear-like person in a bright blue cloak, walked away from Allie’s, a hedgehog in a top hat with a red cloak. As they wandered the expanse of the desert, the screen was split into two horizontally, echoing the expanse of the desert. But when they went into the cabin, it faded into a dark space, and as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the screen split vertically. This emphasized the change in mood and supported the change in behavior from traveling to exploring the space. It was one of the elegant moments in the game’s two-player mode, cinematic and evocative. Allie sighed at the transition.
Her games were limited by technology, and by the free-to-play model. SOS had to have constant nag screens to try this or that quest that would make them money. What a pleasure it was to get lost in a gorgeous game like this. And it even was successful, a breakout hit for the little indie studio that made it.
“I got it!” Derek shouted. His avatar held a broomstick.
“Really?” Allie replied.
“No, wait!” He took a jackalope head that was mounted on a wooden plaque down from the wall. He pulled the head away from the plaque . . . and an entire jackalope came out, like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. The jackalope bounded away, and Allie and Derek collapsed with laughter. Then Derek pushed the broomstick into the plaque, and it became a shovel.
“Oh, honey. My baby is the smartest baby.”
“You know it, darling love.”
His avatar walked across the desert again, and the screens merged into each other like water as the two tiny figures were reunited.
“Shall I order pizza?” Allie asked.
“The finder of the shovel chooses the cuisine.” Derek said solemnly. “We are leaving the house!”
After dinner, they decided to grab some gelato. There was always a line at the gelato place, but the hot weather made it twice as long. Still, it was pleasant to wait together and chat.
“I’ve talked your ear off all dinner,” Allie said. “How’d your penultimate week go?”
Derek shrugged. “Fine. Can’t start much, obviously. We filled the director role. And next week, as a going away gift, I get to sit in on the firing of everyone’s favorite VP.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry.” The line inched forward.
He shrugged. “I don’t enjoy it. But every time we let someone go, the entire team gets better.”
“What do you mean? I thought it was depressing.” Allie thought of her first job. It was a startup that had run out of money, and they started laying folks off, starting with the worst performers. When she joined, they looked so healthy, but after a year they hadn’t had a follow-up to their first big hit, and then they started trimming costs. It was one of the most miserable work experiences of her life, sitting among the empty desks and wondering who was next. She tried not to think about QuiltWorld.
Derek knew what she was thinking of. “Layoffs are different. They are part of larger organizational issues.” He paused, thinking. They stepped closer to the counter. “Not firing is also a sign of organizational issues. If you keep a bad hire around, it causes a lot of issues. If they don’t work hard, everyone wonders why they should work hard. If they work hard, but are a jerk, people don’t want to work with them. If they are incompetent, it undermines trust in management . . . it goes on and on.”
The clerk came over to them. “The usual?”
Allie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yes. Thanks.” Derek ordered while Allie thought about the layoffs. At first, they were a relief in a weird way. There was one guy who just made her job harder. It was easier to do things alone. But later . . . seeing friends go. That hurt. Giving up the dream of success—that hurt, too. Eventually she had quit, before they got to her.
At SOS, she’d seen something similar with dying games. First the rats left the ship, as they say. Those super-political folks who wanted to be associated with whatever was hot would jump studio to whatever looked like the next big thing. Then Rick would firmly move people out. If you didn’t pick a better place to be, you’d get a message you were now working on whatever Rick thought you should work on. It didn’t matter if you were loyal to your team, or if you thought you could turn things around. You were moved like a chess piece.
“Hey, come back to me, hon.” Derek nudged her softly with his shoulder, his hands busy with gelato cup and spoon.
Allie refocused and realized they were halfway home. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Derek laughed. “You don’t even have to be on that damn phone to be working. I was just telling you all of the fine qualities of our ‘special VP.’”
“Mm?” Allie replied, eating her gelato.
Derek sighed. “It’s too long. Let me sum up. He’s poison for everyone, and when he’s gone, everything will get better. More important, management will be seen as willing to take on the hard problems, which will grow trust. It’s taken us six months to get the documentation right, but it’ll be worth it when he’s gone.”
“Six months? That’s crazy!”
“Well, he’s an exec. Half my meetings are with legal, half are with HR.”
“So, are you happy or unhappy to do this firing? I can’t tell.”
“The CEO is doing the actual act. I’m just there to witness and take notes.” Derek paused to think about it. “I guess both. Firing is one of the hardest jobs in anyone’s life. But it really does make the job better. It’s often a wake-up call for an employee. I dunno. I do like hiring better. It’s all sunshine and rainbows at the beginning.”
“Well, congrats on the new job then.”
“Hah! I’m just glad I don’t have that stupid commute anymore. More time for us!”
The phone in Allie’s back pocket vibrated. Derek’s eyes widened. Allie laughed. “Don’t tempt the gods!”
She pulled out her phone. Another anomaly in the sign-up numbers. “Oh, I need to deal with this. Five minutes, I swear.”
Derek shook his head and walked ahead. Allie tossed her melted gelato into a trash bin, and dialed Mick.