would oblige Homeland Security to redirect at least part of its budget to the new ‘file-sharing front’ in the war on terror,” I continued. “So the country might end up with a few less police radios and TSA agents. But some portion of the redirected funds would inevitably accrue to this firm, in the form of legal fees.” I didn’t betray a shred of the yawning horror that I felt. This had to be career hara-kiri.
But I was doing it with style.
I went on to cite three relevant rulings, as well as thesections of the Patriot Act that we’d need to tweak. After I’d laughed so hard at his original joke, Randy had written the whole thing out for me in legalese, complete with this supporting detail. It was so funny and comprehensive that I remembered it all clearly. I now felt cheap and guilty to be presenting his ideas as my own—silly, I guess, given that there was zero chance that
he’d
ever
want to use them at work himself. But Judy’s scathing performance review said that I did “NO original thinking,” and this was clearly a case in point. Still, I could sure do a gorgeous job delivering someone else’s ideas, and that was (slightly) better than nothing.
As soon as I fell silent, Judy started circling the table predatorily, like Robert De Niro in
The Untouchables
. “Nick, I … don’t know what to say.”
Step. Step. Step
.
“Other than that your idea is demented. It’s warped. And it’s—well, it’s a cry for help.” She paused for a good five seconds as she continued to circle. “We’re in a state of war.”
Pause
. “A global crisis.”
Pause
. “One of the few good things to come from this is that Congress occasionally sets aside its greed long enough to do something for the common good.”
Pause
. “And you’re proposing that we exploit this fact, so as to cynically promote the parochial interests of our paymasters.”
“That’s an excellent summary,” I said. It really was.
Judy halted her pacing, and stood right behind me. “Maybe it’s true that our firm …
manipulates
the system. Occasionally. Strictly to serve our clients’ interests, of course. Cynics might even accuse us of profiteering from it. But you’re recommending that we willfully
pervert
it. On an utterly base level.”
By now people were gazing intently at various points between their noses and the conference room table. Just as the tension was peaking, Judy cracked an ironic smile. “But the real problem with your idea is that it’s so fucking obvious we’ve already tried it twice, with no luck. So I need you to come up with something more original. And cunning.”
Everyone relaxed, and I basked in a warm, giddy surge of relief.
“September 11th was years before you started here, so you’re off the hook for not knowing what we tried back then,” Judy said, now smiling almost kindly. “We were so close. We’d put together a whole package of measures that would have lumped Napster and Kazaa right in there with truck bombs. And they were actually in
the working draft
of the Patriot Act. But then the press got wind of it. And after that, not even Fido could push it
through.” The awkward hush morphed seamlessly into a memorial silence for that great, lost opportunity.
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. I was only half there, my brain fogged over from lack of sleep, cold medicine, the drubbing I’d just taken from Judy, and (oh yeah!) agitation about the incipient alien threat to my planet.
Judy wrapped things up around ten by saying “Okay, everyone but Nick—bug off.” Aliens, my monster cold, and sleeplessness fell from my mind again as the room cleared out.
As soon as we were alone, Judy said, “That was brilliant stuff, Nick. Very creative, very topical. And you pulled it out of thin air. But enough about you—here’s something cool about me. When I realize that I’ve been wrong about something, I don’t fuss about it. I just embrace the new reality.Pronto. I’m always
But I was doing it with style.
I went on to cite three relevant rulings, as well as thesections of the Patriot Act that we’d need to tweak. After I’d laughed so hard at his original joke, Randy had written the whole thing out for me in legalese, complete with this supporting detail. It was so funny and comprehensive that I remembered it all clearly. I now felt cheap and guilty to be presenting his ideas as my own—silly, I guess, given that there was zero chance that
he’d
ever
want to use them at work himself. But Judy’s scathing performance review said that I did “NO original thinking,” and this was clearly a case in point. Still, I could sure do a gorgeous job delivering someone else’s ideas, and that was (slightly) better than nothing.
As soon as I fell silent, Judy started circling the table predatorily, like Robert De Niro in
The Untouchables
. “Nick, I … don’t know what to say.”
Step. Step. Step
.
“Other than that your idea is demented. It’s warped. And it’s—well, it’s a cry for help.” She paused for a good five seconds as she continued to circle. “We’re in a state of war.”
Pause
. “A global crisis.”
Pause
. “One of the few good things to come from this is that Congress occasionally sets aside its greed long enough to do something for the common good.”
Pause
. “And you’re proposing that we exploit this fact, so as to cynically promote the parochial interests of our paymasters.”
“That’s an excellent summary,” I said. It really was.
Judy halted her pacing, and stood right behind me. “Maybe it’s true that our firm …
manipulates
the system. Occasionally. Strictly to serve our clients’ interests, of course. Cynics might even accuse us of profiteering from it. But you’re recommending that we willfully
pervert
it. On an utterly base level.”
By now people were gazing intently at various points between their noses and the conference room table. Just as the tension was peaking, Judy cracked an ironic smile. “But the real problem with your idea is that it’s so fucking obvious we’ve already tried it twice, with no luck. So I need you to come up with something more original. And cunning.”
Everyone relaxed, and I basked in a warm, giddy surge of relief.
“September 11th was years before you started here, so you’re off the hook for not knowing what we tried back then,” Judy said, now smiling almost kindly. “We were so close. We’d put together a whole package of measures that would have lumped Napster and Kazaa right in there with truck bombs. And they were actually in
the working draft
of the Patriot Act. But then the press got wind of it. And after that, not even Fido could push it
through.” The awkward hush morphed seamlessly into a memorial silence for that great, lost opportunity.
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. I was only half there, my brain fogged over from lack of sleep, cold medicine, the drubbing I’d just taken from Judy, and (oh yeah!) agitation about the incipient alien threat to my planet.
Judy wrapped things up around ten by saying “Okay, everyone but Nick—bug off.” Aliens, my monster cold, and sleeplessness fell from my mind again as the room cleared out.
As soon as we were alone, Judy said, “That was brilliant stuff, Nick. Very creative, very topical. And you pulled it out of thin air. But enough about you—here’s something cool about me. When I realize that I’ve been wrong about something, I don’t fuss about it. I just embrace the new reality.Pronto. I’m always
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