Visit your old work

Just one day ago, you walked into MicroStuff hoping for a promotion. Now, the huge corporation has a different feel.

You think about what Barbara told you... about how the executives try to hire sexy women and you definitely see it. Most of the guys look normal to you... or would have looked normal until yesterday. They wear khaki slacks and either golf shirts or short-sleeved dress shirts. Some wear pocket protectors. For the most part, they look soft and pasty. Then there are the executives who wear tailored suits, have suntans and are fit. It's almost as if there were two different species... like one of those H.G. Wells stories about the future.

As for the women, they're all hot. You have no idea how you avoided noticing this until now. Women aren't as rare in programming as they were even a few years ago when you started but what women there are tend to be a lot like the guys... more cerebral than physical. More dumpy than hot. Here, though, they aren't. Every single female employee looks hot.

Even the security guards who stop you at the entrance.

"You know you don't have to come into work any more, right?" the Hispanic-looking guard asks. "A lot of you guys don't seem to have any other life."

How pathetic when a security guard thinks you're pathetic. Once again, you vow that things are going to change.

"I wanted to see Crystal DeJoux."

The blond guard winks at you. "Can't say as I blame you."

"Can you call her for me."

"Sorry, sir. We got a warning about you. You're not allowed in the facility."

Crap. You look between the two guards. Both look bored. Neither looks particularly worried that you'll try to storm past them... which makes sense because you suspect that they wouldn't have much trouble subduing you. Neither looks particularly antagonistic, though. They're just doing their jobs... and you're pretty sure Bentham was the one who put the warning out on you.

"Tell you what," you say. "Just let her know I stopped by and I promise I won't give you any trouble."

"You won't give us any trouble anyway." The Hispanic-looking brunette patted the night stick hanging from her hip.

"Well, yeah, I wouldn't. You're doing your job. The fact that the management here is a bunch of assholes isn't your fault."

"Fine, the blond one said. We'll let Crystal know you stopped by. Now get out of here before you get us fired, too."

You nod and head out. So much for your chances of getting hired as a consultant. Looks like Bentham killed that possibility.