The New Hire

Last night for all of two hours I was part of a Silicon Valley internet company.

A few days ago my son’s wife, Karen, called to say that her spouse was working on the east coast and would not make it home for her company party.  She asked me to be her date.  Of course I said yes, though I couldn’t imagine why she would want to take her aged mother-in-law.  The event was to be at a hot new place in the San Francisco warehouse district, and she thought I’d like it.

I needed directions and called information for the number of the restaurant.  A man answered my ring, and I asked how to get to their establishment from the East Bay.

“You can’t get here from there,” he told me.

I gasped and he called a co-worker to the telephone who said I must be crazy to drive so far.  It turned out I’d called a pizza parlor with a similar name. 

I finally got the right number and received good directions from a man who saw no problem in getting there—-even from the East Bay.

When I got to the restaurant, my gray-white hair drew the immediate interest of a hundred and twenty-five young people, all in their twenties and thirties.  They probably couldn’t figure out why I was there, but they welcomed me.  The group was an energetic combination of computer whizzes, engineers, and business minds who had arrived in the Bay Area from all over the country to take part in the internet phenomenon and make a million dollars.  They had come to the party to have fun, but I noticed that quite a few of the guys did not have dates. 

I know that those young men are far too busy for a big social life.  Most of them arrive early in the day and occasionally work far into the night.  Some evenings they break about ten, roller-blade to McDonald’s for dinner, then return to the office to play computer games for a few minutes’ relaxation.

One twenty-eight year old business type told me it wasn’t true that there weren’t enough women to go around down in the valley.  He said that he was doing fine and that if anyone was having trouble, it had to be the engineers.  The engineers would probably say it was guys in sales.

As the evening progressed, we moved among the throng.  In one conversation I explained that I was a teacher turned writer.  The eyes of a young man lit up.  “We need writers,” he said and turned to my daughter-in law who is sometimes a recruiter.  “What do you think?” 

She looked at me speculatively.  “Maybe,” she said, “if we can get her to brush up on her internet skills.”  (I don’t always read my Email).

I thought about it all the way home and decided it was time I got a real job.

I may be moving from the East Bay to the Silicon Valley where it’s all happening.  But first I’ll try a little Miss Clairol.  Then I’ll buy the roller blades.

And I will not call a pizza parlor for driving directions.