Learning to Smoke

At 21, in the heady late 90s, I was looking for a new web programming job. I interviewed at two places, Monster and this weird little start-up company in a dilapidated house in Allston (neighborhood in Boston that attracts students and wanna-be rockers). Monster was a commute, cubicles, and a growing name. It seemed like a good prospect.

When I walked into the interview at the other company, I saw the team of 6 or so people at makeshift desks lining the living room, and next to every workstation was an ashtray and a bong. I'm totally serious. It smelled like a Grateful Dead show in the middle of an industrial smokestack.

And you know what? I took the second job. Because it seemed really fucking cool, and I was 21, and Monster was already looking a bit Office Space-y.

But yeah, smoking (not just the mj) seemed cool, and weird, and offbeat, and it made the group seem even more rebellious than it would have otherwise. And it turned out ok. Some people got rich, some of us made a little money with options.

I have a great story about how we trashed a bus management rented to take us to Six Flags. I think it took the president approximately 5 minutes to light a spleef, and we were all completely drunk by the time we made it to the park... at 10am.

Next thing you know, someone will try prostitution for a month.