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Hello to you! My name is Stavros. I am now Vice President of Valve game company! Is very exciting! But much work. I am now head programmer, animator and game designer, plus I am washing Robin's clothes. (So many beef stains!)
But Robin is busy man, so I not mind. He is Big Valve President now and decide not to fire me. He sit on Valve President Yoga Ball and say "I am need someone to shoot at with BB gun, Stavros." Then he does! Ow! But is all in good funs. (Except when I am trying to return the funs, then Robin say he kill me.)
Today is Day 6 of Spy Update. Please to pursue this link to Ambassador, a new revolver for Spy. Hooray!
Now to shoe Robin's horse. Robin enjoy riding through office some times to chase Stavros.
"Marianne, send in someone please. Anyone at all. Oi! Send in someone with one eyebrow! That'd be marvelous."
"Sir, you've fired everyone."
"Already? But it's not even eight o'clock."
"You've outdone yourself, sir."
"Beaut. Alright, make a note that we need to hire 500 employees tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
"Then put me down the day after that for firing all of them."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and get them to bring stuff in tomorrow. Tell them to put it in their desks. Tell them to load their desks right up."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, you're fired."
"Yes, sir."
[The end. See you tomorrow!]
I think I've found my man. Valve's staff is now down to two employees: me and our Greek intern Stavros Xanthis. We're sitting in the main board room, staring at each other from across the table. I turned up the thermostat as far as it will go. It's hard to make him out behind the waves of heat coming out of the vents, but I think he looks guilty.
"Alden, you have three seconds to tell me why you're fired."
"Wait, what? I—"
"You're fired."
"You wanted to see me, Robin?"
"Yes, Greg. What's the difference between you and you're fired?"
"I — what?"
"Clean out your desk, Greg."
"Yeah, Robin?"
"Ah, come in, Matt. How's the family?"
"Oh. Uh, good. What's this ab—"
"Top drawer. How about your little boy? He getting better at the ol' soccer?"
"Football. No, not really."
"Do you think he'd be any good at cleaning out your desk by five?"
"I —"
"Because you're fired."
"Laidlaw, it says here you're a writer. Well, let me tell YOU a story. Once upon a time you were fired. Then you cleaned out your desk by five."
"You wanted to see me, Robin?"
"Eric. I'd like you to clean your desk."
"I — sure, sir."
"Outbyfive."
"Out by...?"
"Why! Oh! Why-Oh-You! Oh-You-Are-Eee! You're Fired!"
Valve's head of HR, Kathy, just came to talk to me. I'd been lining up employees in a row against the wall so I could run past and fire them faster.
"You're fired you're fired you're fired you're fired oh hi, Kathy. What's up?"
"I'm a little concerned that you're mistreating your authority." I nodded, then reminded her that we'd talked about her using smaller words.
"We think you've gone mad with power," she said, talking slowly and using her hands. That's when I knew: She was in on it. Best not to take any chances, I thought, as I reached for my firing stick.
I've been working through the staff in alphabetical order. So far I'm up to the L's. I told Marc Laidlaw I had a book in my office I wanted him to see. I didn't tell him the name of that book: Marc Laidlaw, You Are Fired, by Robin Walker.
