EPISODE 13 “It’s just a quick pitch session. You won’t have to stay long,” the Boss wheedles.
“Thanks, but…” I reply.
“Come on, you’ll meet some new people.”
“Boring people,” the PFY interjects.
“… and hear some stories…”
“Boring stories…”
“You might even learn something!” the Boss pleads.
“Something boring,” the PFY says.
And he’s not wrong. Cross-department pitch sessions are drier than a sawdust sandwich in the Sahara. To add insult to injury, the sessions are scheduled at the end of the day and we’re all crammed in the boardroom for the duration.
“Oh no,” the Boss counters, when I mention it. “It’s being held at the pub across the road. We booked the upstairs bar.”
>Kaching!
“You know what, some users have really great ideas!” the PFY lies.
“And I’ve often wanted to hear more about the benefits of controlling the air-conditioning system from a VBA macro in Excel,” I chirp.
… later that evening…
“What’s that noise?” the Boss asks, as the PFY and I enter the upstairs bar of our local.
“What noise?”
“That clicking noise.”
“Oh that! That’s my Steigercounter,” the PFY admits.
“Your what?”
“My Steigercounter.”
“You mean… Geiger counter?”
“No, no, Steigercounter, i.e. Rod Steiger. It… uh… detects weirdos.”
“Weirdos?”
“Yeah, you know. People who exist outside the normal distribution – in more ways than one. A Beancounter who thinks that AI is secretly changing the numbers in his spreadsheet to make him look bad.”
“Is it?” the Boss asks, concerned.
“Of course not, that’s just Stephen,” I respond, nodding at the PFY. “You have to make your own fun.”
“And… that’s… your… Steigercounter?” the Boss asks, pointing at a large badge on my lapel.
“No, I don’t use a Steigercounter. I have an Affleckometer.”
“Which is?”
“It’s nothing to do with witches. It detects the presence of dull or overrated people.”
“The badge does?” the Boss asks.
“No, the badge is a dosimeter. The reading on the badge, which has gone up two bars – or 20 centiMusks – since I’ve been speaking to you, will report a critical exposure to dull or overrated people.”
“What happens then?”
“If I’m overexposed, I’d probably need to take a break to detox – or do some alcohol therapy. Either way, though, it’s a bit of a zero-sum game.”
“In… uh… what way?”
“A break doesn’t lower the exposure level, though alcohol will. The only problem is that alcohol raises the exposure gain. It’s basically a race condition.”
“You say that like it’s a problem?”
“Well, yes. The danger is that over time you might start seriously considering what they’re talking about.”
“And how do you prevent that?” the Boss asks dryly.
“It’s an imprecise science,” I reply, stepping over to the bar, “though the key point is – as for most self-medication – start slowly and pace yourself.”
…
“So you see,” a user explains, “AI could look around the office and see if people appear hot or cold and automatically make adjustments to the air conditioning.”
“Sounds great,” the PFY says, downing a large glass of therapy. “Tell me less.”
“Less?”
“Oh, sorry, I meant more.”
“Well, you see, if you had cameras in every…”
“I think we could use AI to improve workplace morale,” a user tells the Boss and me.
“Really?” I say, reaching for a pint of medication.
“Yes, you see, I have always struggled with self-love,” he admits.
“Not in a physical way I hope?” I ask, now that my medication is taking effect.
“No, I mean AI would be an ideal tool to offer positive reinforcement. It would make people happier, which would in turn make the workplace happier.”
“Don’t they already do that with prescription pharmaceuticals?” I ask.
“No. AI could encourage you in everything you do – just small comments to lift your self-esteem.”
“Oh, you mean the lift telling you that you pressed the first-floor button really well. Or the toilet telling you that you totally nailed that last run of… well, runs.”
“I don’t know how you’d implement it, but you’re the IT guys. Surely you can figure out some positive message criteria for AI to use on us.”
What concerns me is that the Boss hasn’t had any medication, but still seems to think this is a good idea. To make matters worse, my dosimeter screen has started blinking and I don’t think I have the capacity for more medication. Time to switch to the single-malt medication…
…
The next day I drag myself into work suffering the effects of what can only be described as a medication error. The PFY appears to be similarly disabled, and flashbacks from last night keep coming back to me. Something vague about writing a bit of code for the PA system?
>CRASH<
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE BLOODY JOKING ABOUT THAT TOILET THING!” the Boss rants.
Oh yeah. But on the building PA system.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Damn that alcohol therapy.
