Employment Trends

My Brief Reign as a Dot-com Princess

By Phyllis Beck

	Illustration by John Magadieu

GTT laid off my entire documentation department in April 2000. We writers were given a month with pay and the use of our offices to find a new job.

Computer jobs were as plentiful as cars on Route 128 during rush hour. Recruiters courted me—phoning me and sending me e-mail. I felt like a lottery winner sought by long-lost relatives. Within two weeks, I had found a job. I interviewed at Euphoria one morning and was offered the job that afternoon. Euphoria offered a $5,000 sign-on bonus, stock options, and promises of an annual bonus.

The job was terrific. I liked my co-workers. The software was relatively easy to understand. Good writing was appreciated. The commute was under 30 minutes. And I was earning more money than I had ever made in my life. I was in pig heaven.

Every Friday, Euphoria provided bagels in the morning and a free lunch at noon. One summer night, the whole company was taken to a Red Sox game and each employee got a twenty-dollar bill to buy snacks. At the end of the summer, we had a beer and barbecue party during which the young president rode on a rented pony and the vice presidents wore silly costumes and pretended to vanquish our leading competitor. Euphoria was so much fun.

Orders poured in and we moved to a bigger building up the hill. Our new offices were decorator-designed and color-coordinated. Each employee had a $600 Aeron chair. A chair with so many possible adjustments it would have taken a day to read the instruction manual. We had an espresso machine, six free soda machines, and four gourmet coffee machines.

In September, Euphoria rented the Boston Aquarium and invited everyone for cocktails and dinner. We were encouraged to invite our families. After the champagne was passed, our Harvard-educated leader and wunderkind announced even more sales. He named 40 people who had contributed to the success of our latest release. We were given a weekend in Orlando—complete with airplane tickets, hotel reservations, and weekend passes to Disney World for ourself and a guest. What a wonderful company. How fortunate I was to be part of this dot-com revolution.

Decorators, painters, and carpenters continued to work on our offices. Our game room opened. There was a professional pool table, table tennis, and several electronic games that are usually found in bars. At lunch-time we sometimes had Trivial Pursuit tournaments. Someone in HR had appeared on Jeopardy while another writer had been a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.

Our writing manager left and I encouraged a friend to apply for her job. My friend was hired to the delight of the other writers. I got a $3,000 referral bonus. We were a very happy group.

The good times continued. Our Christmas party was a dinner dance at the Copley Plaza, with passed hors-d'oeuvres, a band, and much merriment. Euphoria gave each employee a Christmas present of a black fleece jacket and a bright red scarf—each item featuring the Euphoria logo. We looked like well-fed black bunnies.

In June, my group was treated to a white linen tablecloth dinner, dancing, and drinks on a Boston Harbor cruise with our spouses. My husband and I sat on the deck on that deliciously warm June evening and smugly contemplated the lights of Boston.

My reign as a dot-com princess ended at 12:14 on Monday, July 9, 2001.

I was eating lunch at my desk and sending e-mail when Woo Lee said Dan, the Vice President of Engineering, wanted to talk to me. I assumed that this was a fire drill and that they needed a software patch and some quick documentation so I grabbed a notebook and pen and followed Lee.

Dan looked grim and began the familiar: "We have to make some reductions in staff. No reflection on your ability, etc." I was stunned.

But I should have guessed. The fresh flowers on the receptionist's desk had been replaced with fake flowers.

Phyllis Beck can be reached at pbeck@gis.net.