Goo (gle) Punch

I’ve wanted to do a great deal of things with my future, from being a professor to an athlete to a politician to a career student to a writer to a classy restaurant napkin folder.

 Those Dreams: RIP (March 28, 1987 – March 21, 2011)

I want to work for Google.
I will work for Google.
Once I work for Google, I will never stop working for Google.

Last night, I had dinner with two old friends, one being this wonderful lady. She works at Google’s offices in San Francisco and told me stories of the good life with regards to being an Google employee. While she told these stories, my friend Lucy and I sat in amazement, halfway believing she was just lying to us.

At the end of dinner, she asked me if I wanted to come in for lunch. At Google. I obviously jumped at the opportunity, and at 12:30 this afternoon, I arrived at the complex.

If Neverland Ranch was 1) geared towards fun adults, 2) had moral codes of conduct, and 3) was the most important company in the world, it would be Google.

We go to the cafeteria, and instead of getting swiped in or paying for my plate, I just take a plate and start.  When presented with such a rare opportunity, my brain goes into full ignorance mode, and my plate is overflowing in 20 seconds.  After I fill up my plate, I see this:

So, on top of revolutionizing the internet and being the biggest company in the world, they also decided to make their own soda. Notice those aren’t Coke’s and Sprite’s and Mountain Dew’s… Those are “Cola” and “Gingerale” and “Dew”. Unreal.

After I ravenously destroyed my free flank steak, sauteed green beans, chorizo, chocolate chip cookie, and chocolate pudding, Anna took me on a trip of the office. After walking through hallways filled with scooter stations and Lego castles and living, breathing garden gnomes, we stumbled upon this:

Yep, that’s a Google K-Nex Ferris Wheel, the same height as Ms. Bofa with heels on. No big deal.

Walked a wee bit more, and then BOOM:

Maybe game rooms are normal in corporate establishments, I mean what do I know?  The last company I worked for was the opposite of Google (not fun, not pretty, and they “let me go” via e-mail). 

Maybe Google isn’t such a beautifully-abnormal work environment, but it sure seemed like it to me. I mean, LOOK AT THIS BOUNCEY BALL.

And yes, that is what I wore to Google and and by being dressed in a grey suit with white and red jordans, a pink shirt, and a D2 hat on, I could have been a Senior VP. But I’m not the Senior VP, am I? No, I’m the guy who gives more money that I’ve ever seen to Columbia University, instead of  routinely sitting on a bouncey ball while watching employees battle each other in ping pong while talking about stocks.

Google, please hire me one day. I’m still not sure exactly what it is you do, but I’m sure I can help. Thanks.

I can’t wait for Anna to be the president/queen/dictator/Boss of Google one day, so she can put me in charge of daily blogging responsibilities or one of those other made-up skillsets I list on my resume.

That will be a great day.

p.s. If you don’t get the reference to “Goo Punch”, shame shame shame on you. 


About Rembert Browne

NYC via ATL ////
This entry was posted in Excursions, Rando. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Goo (gle) Punch

  1. michelyah says:

    Dear Google,
    Hire Rembert. You wont regret it. kay. Thanks!

    Yours Truly,

    PS …you gotta an opening for an artistic animal enthusiast hippy? Just thought I throw it out there.

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