Last night we hopped between parties during thunderstorm breaks and ended up at the PayPal party where the passes they’d given us to get in didn’t work, but our Google business cards did. Cool venue, dull party — that is, until I was cajoled into joining the other designers on the “dance floor.” The dance floor was essentially a small space at the back of the club where annoyed patrons were standing, socializing, and trying not to spill their drinks while we pushed our way through, as idiots do. We were in fact so lame that thirty minutes later we had, by casually nudging out the socializers, formed a huge circle in which random people were breakdancing. It wasn’t long before the hired photographer showed up to shoot this spectacle in hopes of documenting the sheer coolness of this PayPal event. That’s right, this party wasn’t cool until we got there. This is for all you designers at PayPal who rejected my resume back in 2003. What do you really do over there besides design ways of making me accidentally click on credit card offers, anyway?
The recruiting booth, on the other hand, was a bit of a failure as most people browsing the trade show floor seemed to think we’d set up a mobile tech support stand to help them with their personal Google application problems. One of our designers patiently talked to someone he thought was a potential candidate only to have him suddenly say, “Do you remember that billboard that was in Austin, with the math problem on it? Well…I solved that problem. It took me a very long time. Two years ago I sent in an application explaining that I’d solved the problem and no one ever responded to me.” Imagine an uncomfortable pause here, with our designer trying to explain that we got thousands of applications and couldn’t possibly respond to them all. The man responds, “I don’t think Austin wants Google here!” He storms off, slamming the job description sheet to the floor as he leaves.
Sometime after this conference I realized that we’re either revered or hated. But screaming at us at the booth is like yelling at the guy at the baggage claim counter. He didn’t lose your bags and there’s probably not a whole lot he can do to help you find them, either. In fact, the designer he’d been yelling at didn’t even work at the company two years ago. What I can’t really figure out is what would make this guy so angry. Did someone from Google run over his dog? Did the big billboard that was erected block the view from his apartment balcony? Did the Google logo pen we give him run out of ink? Hard to say. I’m wondering if this kind of behavior would fly elsewhere. Do other companies hire people who act insane at their trade show booths? Employment by intimidation? I spent the last few hours of the trade show hiding behind the booth and working, occasionally begging for swag that I could bring home to Saturyne.
We visited Threadgill’s tonight. I hate chicken fried chicken (and steak) but that is the best chicken fried anything I’ve ever had. Pair it with the hot little lady crooning to the sounds of her fiddle playing and this great frozen strawberry margarita and you’re having yourself a real Texas weekend. Now if only I could bring all the horses home with me…
