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The bubbly receptionist couldn’t get enough. She jumped up and walked around the desk with her arm extended. “Oh wow! The Mia! My name is Amanda. I’m a big fan!”
She jerked her head to the large screen with the trending photos. “I’m not a programmer yet, but you’re my hero,” she confided. Her voice dropped an octave. “I’m learning on my own, but totally love your message. Fuck brogrammers, fuck ‘em right and left.”
I smiled carefully, looking around. We were in Picto-land with thousands brogrammers walking around campus. It paid to be careful, even if Amanda and I were alone at the moment.
“Um, thanks,” I said halfheartedly. “It was more of a game than anything else.”
But the young woman was unstoppable, nodding happily.
“Well, your photo was inspirational. So thank you! And I almost forgot.” She glided back to her desk and reached over for something, presenting it to me with exuberant flair, “Tada!”
It was my Pictogram ID attached to a pink and red lanyard. For my photo, they’d chosen my infamous middle-finger image. Really? Instead of a traditional headshot, we were going with this?
Amanda nodded happily again.
“I took the liberty of using your trademark photo for your ID.” She beamed at me as she pulled the string down over my head. “Do you like it?”
Cringing inside, I held my ID in my hands. “Um, I love it. Thank you!” I lied with a forced smile. Amanda was so sweet. I didn’t want to explain to her that this very photo had caused me more problems than humanly possible, but who was I to burst the young girl’s bubble? Life would happen, sooner or later, and there was no need to pour rain on her sunshine.
“Okay Ms. Smith,” she burbled. “I’m going to take you to your desk. Follow me, please,” she said, almost doing a pirouette on one pink high-top sneaker.
And quickly, we made our way down the polished hallway. Everything was a glossy, opaque white, like we were in a giant starship. It was cool but intimidating too with a lot of reflective surfaces.
But Amanda kept up her friendly chatter, turning at intervals to smile at me.
“This building only has one restaurant, Mexican,” she prattled. “It’s fish taco day, by the way. Do you like tacos?”
“I love tacos,” were my words.
Her eyes lit up. “Me too! We should have lunch sometime.”
I paused. This was starting to get a little crazy, but I didn’t want to be rude. So instead, a smile crossed my face.
“Sure,” I agreed. “Just not today, it’s my first day and I don’t know what they have planned.”
“Your group will probably take you out to lunch,” the blonde said again, nodding her head knowingly. “You have a couple choices because there are a total of six restaurants on campus. Plus two cafes, laundry and dry cleaning facilities, a beauty salon, a music studio, a video arcade, a woodworking shop, and don’t forget, a full-size movie theater too.” She paused, catching her breath. “I’ll email all this stuff to you of course, with a map of facilities. It’s a lot to remember but Pictogram just wants the best for its employees.”
Hmm, that was definitely true, as well as convenient.
“How much are the laundry services?” I asked thinking about all the quarters I had to scrounge up before I ever did a load.
Amanda laughed, her blonde bun bobbling. “It’s all free, silly!”
That got me.
“Free?” I asked in astonishment, eyes wide. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yes. Everything’s free: food, the video arcade, getting your nails done, absolutely everything.”
“Wow,” I said, impressed. “That’s a lot of benefits.”
At that moment, we passed by a large abstract painting. Lines of code swirled around a mix of bright vibrant colors and dark bold lines. I stopped to admire it, the rush of reds and oranges bold and beautiful.
Amanda said in a hushed tone, “Mr. Wainwright did this one.”
Turning to her, I asked, amazed, “Theo?”
She nodded confidentially. “Oh yes. There are several of his pieces around campus. It’s one of the CEO’s hobbies.”
