sex and the googleplex
Five women and one man were riding in the elevator up to last night's
needlessly exclusive party "for media" at the West Chelsea Googleplex last night. The women all wore similar, similarly officey outfits: tight black slacks, two-inch heels and shiny blouses accented by conspicuous yet conservative jewelry. They stared at my tattoos, and at my nametag, which read "Kate Appleton, BudgetTravel.com." Uh oh. "You don't look like Kate Appleton," the one man finally ventured. He turned out to be Kate's boss. The women shot me withering stares, clearly displeased that I was resorting to subterfuge in order to gain access to the hotbed of Google bachelors that no doubt awaited us on the 16th floor. And then we got out of the elevator and emerged into what looked exactly like a high school cafeteria. How appropriate.
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