No, Tigerton it is not. No, not Crestline either. And if you thought I am talking about Bearlake you are sadly mistaken. No, it is something entirely unforeseen in the world of CPU development, the bleeding bleeping edge of raw processing power (You should see the Shabu that I get to play with here). The palpable excitement in the empty hallways of usually falling stock prices and fired managers (seriously, if you manage two people you do not count as one) is nothing short of intoxicating. I long to be a part of those heady days, when nerds where still cowboys, riding their steel mice into the sunset at 0.005 Mghz. But that’s neither here nor there, I am but an unlikely (I have hardly any pimples) part of the born again nerd herd who will wet their little panties when you say “9 Mghz – no FSB”.
CPU building is just not as much fun when your monopoly is being undermined by one whole competitor. So you can tell Intel Corp. has not been the happy cog-family that we are all accustomed to: little people making even littler chippies that make your little worker bees in your big multinational companies work even faster and harder and your pile of money even larger. No more toasting Moore’s law which has stealthily but unquestionably gone wrong – most of the time.
You understand when I tell you that these last few weeks have been mildly surprising to one of the little cogs (me) in the machine. Rarely have I seen this introverted bunch of people so emotional and yes, even talking to each other in the hallways between their cubes. I must admit that after seeing the informational posted over the urinal I found myself somewhat dumbfounded as well. Who woulda thunk it? Is it even possible? But what would be the use? Are you all completely bonkers? These are only some of the questions that came to mind.
Because in all its glory the internal Press Release stapled to the wall above the urinal (where do they put these in the girl’s room?) in no uncertain terms informed me that the amazing – wait, drum roll - the wonder of the modern world – yes, drum roll – The One, The Only “Hands-Free Soap Dispenser” would soon be available in this very bathroom. Before you start asking why Intel posts cleanliness advice and other safety conscious drivel in its bathrooms, ask yourself why you always find yourself face to boob with a half nekked girl advertising some crap nobody needs, when you are in the process of ridding yourself of the end product of your alcohol induced confidence. No really, ask.
But let us instead focus on this monster of an oxymoron. Yes, let it roll of your tongue one more time “Hands-Free Soap Dispenser”. Kinda musical, isn’t it. If oxymorons would be huge horned beasts this one would challenge the alpha male (intelligent president) and crush his puny little attempt at dick measuring. It would rip his head off, shit down his throat and then proceed to copulate copiously with all the girl-oxymorons till kingdom come, because there certainly will never be another worthy challenger (Author’s note 1. I do not believe in a coming kingdom, it’s a bleeping figure of speech; 2. MSFT might challenge). So for the last two months, and this was pretty tough as I was joyfully and innovatively intoxicated, I have been racking my nerdy brains as to why a guy who can not use a soap dispenser with his hands, would need soap dispensed to his hands. I don’t care if you think me mean to all those poor souls who have no hands, because for most jobs at Intel you bloody well need all your ten (some nerds insist on eleven) appendices for typing on a keyboard in order to make those little chippies clock faster. I welcome the thought that you think I am not politically correct enough for your puritan little mind because your puritan little mind does not conceive of wondering why there is a need for a glorious “Hands-Free Soap Dispenser”. You are too busy being happy that you do not have to touch a Soap Dispenser that another (yuk) person has just touched. While you mull over how to hide all your nasty human scents, remove all the unwanted hairs and appear to have flushed just before mating with your alpha fe/male consider this: The great mothership is not trying to do good by you, trying to protect you from the vagaries of the modern toilet, or even to provide two month of continuous entertainment for one easily amused nerd. They are trying to make you less sick so that you can be a more productive cog in their multinational machine.
Well, I would love to turn this into a rant against big corporations taking over my dear little green planet but I can’t. I like that Intel thinks so much about their bottom line that they come up with a way to prevent some bacteria to get on my hands, before I proceed to wash them anyway. I like that since I was here last they put a little nurse station in a little room that used to be the janitor’s. Yup, the nurse is cute, and she tells you about proper positioning (At your keyboard, you nerd!). Alas, no ranting about big business today. But please, can I get a little stronger response when I ask “What hands, and if I do have hands that I can not use, do I wash with soap from a Hands-Free Soap Dispenser?” then the blank rather disinterested look that a girl-oxymoron wears while patiently waiting for the crowning of the alpha-oxymoron?
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