To the office, he's lazy. But he'll soon become the most ambitious man with a club. NextPage software developer Jack Bauer can't afford to always play by the rules. As a participant of the 1st annual golf tournament, Jack must stop engineers, testers, and programmers, usually while releasing the newest build of R12. What follows is an account, unfolding in real time, of each consecutive hour, in what is about to be one very bad day.

HOURS UNTIL TEE TIME:21:23
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 10:37 AM

To: EVERYONE
Subject: Golf Tournament
Bob, Jean, Alan, and I look forward to taking the winners stand at the end. John assures me that his recent shoulder operation will not limit his ability to sign autographs at the end. So, don’t be shy about asking,

David

HOURS UNTIL TEE TIME:
21:16
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 10:44 AM

To: EVERYONE
Subject: Golf Tournament
David, your group is more than welcome to come to the winner stand to congratulate Charlie, Joe, Carol and I on a thoroughly dominating victory.
Sam

HOURS UNTIL TEE TIME:
20:29
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 11:31 AM

To: EVERYONE
Subject: Golf Tournament
Folks, sometimes you have to remember it’s the littlest dogs that bark the loudest. Don’t let them faze you. When a chance comes along, you watch it approach, then stalk it like a hawk stalks the mouse scurrying across the bare ground on a cold, dry moring in January. When the sun rises in the east and peirces your gaze with it's glowing rays of promise, that is when you look to the west, and measure the length of your shadow against the length of your courage. And when the day comes that you find that you've surpassed your own will of character; the day that your bravery overshadows your fear; the day that small men become taller, and tall men become giants, that is the day that I will TEAR IT UP ON THE GOLF COURSE!
Jack
AKA: NextPage software developer, Jack Bauer
PS Nothing but the furries of hell will deter me from victory!PPS And those furries will have to BRING IT! Victory, it will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

HOURS UNTIL TEE TIME:19:44
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 12:16 PM

To: EVERYONE

Subject: Golf Tournament
I know most of you are going to be very sad but we are going to cancel the golf tournament this Friday due to the high chance of inclement weather (rain and really cold temperature).
Carol

Whaaaaaahhht??

Golf Time!!



To go, or not to go. That is the question. The question that every employee asks themselves on the fateful day the get the first notice of the annual office golf tournament. As a part time employee I usually revel in knowing that I'm not invited, which also means I get to leave early, during the awards ceremony, and enjoy the tournament in solitude. But unfortunately this company has outsmarted me. Without prior consent my name was added to a roster of company teams competing this year. "No experience needed! Play for fun! Get to know your co-workers! If you don't have clubs we'll pay for you to rent them!" The messages beat me into submission before I know what's what; the room starts spinning and all I see is a blur of computer monitors whizzing by, the servers taunting me with their replicas and their email clients. Then I realize the room isn’t spinning at all, my chair is. And I’m squealing like a 6 year old on Space Mountain.

So who are these illusive teammates of mine? Three middle-aged computer programmers, out to show the world, or the company, that they DO know the meaning of fun, and that they DO have other interests besides computer games. In truth I've never met them . . . even less of an incentive to go. True, we could bond over the drama of Commander Worf falling for a girl who's half Romulan, but alas, Star Trek antics only get you so far in life. Then you're forced to turn to golf. The dark side, as we Trekkies like to call it (I'll be stoned to death for that later). So the ultimate question remains: to go, or not to go.

After careful consideration I've decided that although there is great potential for a memorable outing (and accompanying blog) that's not enough to entice me to get out of bed at 7am to "get to know" my alleged co-workers. I've been here for two weeks, and thus far I don't see any evidence that there actually are other people working here besides the 4 people I know. APPARENTLY this whole floor belongs to our office, but the howling wind, and rolling tumbleweeds is beginning to make me suspicious.

The Joys of Employment . . .

There are many small joys in life that come with something new. Wearing pair of socks for the first time; the first scoop of icecream from a fresh carton (when you can still fool yourself into thinking that you'll only have one dishfull); and that first crack in the spine of a good paperback. Most of the time, first are exciting, refreshing, and enjoyable. The first day of a new job for the intelligent, modern woman, however, is much different. In order to appreciate this in full, we will examine my entire first WEEK of work.

>>It all starts when you spend two hours filling out a page and a half of HR paperwork, listening to the roar of the air conditioner, and trying not to laugh when the other newbie says to your, I'm *this* close to retirement boss, "ummm . . . don't be mad buuuuuut . . . I don't have like my social security card with me . . ." Apparently these high-tech software companies have some sort of SUPER-copy machine that requires at least 20 minutes of individual attention per copy . . . it's good to know that your drivers license picture will be immortalized in the records of your HR department . . .until you die.

>>Introductions happen at a break-neck pace. You know it, and they know it. No one was listening. Now when you see them you'll look away in an awkward moment because ASKING for a name is out of the question. Office camaraderie at it's best.

>>Incorporating the office jargon is always a challenge, new words that make you feel like a natural woman. Things like "upload it to a Domino server so we can set up a monitor system", or "We need to wer-ify the location of Moe-hoe at Pawey's" (a sad attempt to phoneticize an accent).

>>Secure buildings are particularly interesting; where you need a key-card to get in any door, you get the lovely task of pacing-outside-the-office-waiting-for-someone-to-come-to-the-bathroom-so-you-can-harass-them-to-let-you-in-while-you-try-to-position-yourself-so-that-the-receptionist-in-the-office-across-the-hall-will-stop-looking-at-you-like-you've-just-stolen-the-last-doughnut-in-the-break-room-which-you-couldn't-get-into-if-you-wanted-because-you-still-don't-have-a-key! Hypothetically.

>>Finding the women's room can be difficult enough, but then discovering that it has a motion sensor, so that if you sit too long on the can, you'll soon be sitting in the dark. Then someone else comes in a finds you there . . . they know how long you've been there, they've timed the lights themselves . . .now you're both hoping that the air-freshener sensor will kick in soon.

>>And finally, the icing on the cupcake of employment, that first time you accidentally say something inappropriate to your boss. Like when he's training you on a program and offers to demonstrate it on a computer and you sweetly ask, "Your place, or mine?" Needless to say, we went to mine.