mills

My hotel room is opposite the large new headquarters of a recently-spun (and probably liberated) division of my company; in the morning, between ineffectual exercises and while drinking Red Bull, I watch people stream in. Most are older, ties flapping and pants billowing in the wind, but I see several who -like me- are vainly and pointlessly trying to arrest the slide into middle-aged corporate conformity with some safely deviant hairstyle or slightly unique sweater. But we all know how this ends up, and knowing doesn’t change it, either. Party time!