Human Compilation Error
Bruno Jide was 21, fresh out of school and looking to make an impression. As a result, he was an overeager, overexcited bunch of nerves; he resumed work early and closed late and always wanted to take on more work. He was only three weeks in.
It was December, 2012.
The company was close to closing up for the year and the entire team was huddled together in the largest room in the building (it had a poorly-stocked bar in the East-end, but no one ever drank from it). The room was splashed in a lazy blue pouring out of the projector overhead. The CEO was putting on his strongest act today; it was the regular talk — 2012 in review, highs and lows and plans for 2013.
Bruno was on the edge of his seat. He loved the CEO. He was learning to speak like the man, laugh like him and throw smart quips when he entered a room — just like the man. So far — and unbeknownst to him, he had only so far succeeded in making his colleagues loathe him further.
The talk was over in 25 minutes. No one said a thing. The entire house stared balefully at the CEO. He prodded, any questions?
No one said a thing. Bruno was alarmed. This was a brilliant, beautiful talk. Why is no one saying anything? In his panic, he raised his hand and asked a question, any question, to communicate his personal engagement. The CEO answered, but his heart was obviously not in it.
‘I am disappointed in every one of you,’ he said afterwards. ‘That the youngest and newest member of this team should be the most engaged. I expected better.’ He stormed out, abandoning the projector and his notes.