If I had to give any business advice, it would be that. The tragedy market’s done very good this year, record-high fatalities equal more traction for us. We get asked all the time about our ethics, that’s the fun conversation with the racists at the family dinner table. Listen, if you think about it, we’re empowering people, getting the word out there. The message is what matters. Sure, deals are made, money exchanges hands, but we give the gift of strength in the form of marketing campaigns and trendy t-shirts you can hashtag on the internet. Take the bad with the good.
We rent out a co-working space, but I don’t mind collaboration. I’ve got a standing desk with a #freethegirls branded yoga ball, my posture’s heavily improved and my meatless metabolism is kept alight with the coffee room soy snacks. Mandated daily sensitivity trainings and team-building exercises keep us all interconnected, and when the craft beer cart rolls around on Friday I know I earned it.
Mass shootings, climate change, we got the shirts and the stickers. Our office has a few big tickers below the balcony, 100-inch FIOS enabled Google Televisions, constantly running Twitter searches for information and updates. It’s like watching the DOW Jones crashing, or something like that, I’m not hetero enough to pay attention to meaningless bullshit like the Stock Market. This is where the real work begins.
We have the power to meme the public into having closure. They were able to put a demagogue President in the White House, we managed to give O’Rourke’s AR-15 rant a cool logo and make it SEO-friendly. We’ll admit, those Black Hebrew Isrealites made it pretty difficult for us — no strong child advocates for that one. Sometimes you gotta make apples out of oranges, redirect back to gun control. You can’t always win.
We like the happy hours after work, there’s a vapor bar in the BOHO district that’s a cheap pool rideshare away. The conversation is always light all things considered, there’s so many series on streaming services today it’s hard to keep up. I’ll admit, that $500 Avengers Endgame cast-signed poster is more of a talking piece than real art in my apartment, but it makes a good phone background that gives people that little yaaaassss and excited jazz hand wave.
We’re all the same age, twenty-something’s with varying degrees of education. For most of us, this was our first job out of college, this company’s notorious for hiring Interns. I mean, it’s nice of them, I guess. None of us really wanted to end up here it seems, but moving back to our respective backwards buttfuck burrough-towns was a greater insult than taking a job we didn’t really want. The office is a little too white if i’m honest. I’ve voiced my concerns at the weekly HR Hacky-Sack Honesty Pow-Wower Hour™, but I haven’t seen many changes.
I’d say the best part of our job is the counter-measures we sneak in to trick those fascist boomers. That’s right — we have our own versions of MAGA hats. Confederate Flags, Libtard Snowflake Repellant novelty spray — anything to milk those filthy r*tard mongoloids of their social security checks. Just make a new website with an attractive name: “trumpisjesus.com.”
Nobody can tell the difference.