NEW YORK, 4:10 AM, SAT JUL 19 | 45 POSTS IN THE LAST 24 HOURS | tips@gawker.com | RSS
Posts Tagged “

Googleplex

flackery

Google's Secret Lego-Made Logo

Intrepid Jennifer 8. Lee has defied Google's blackout on photographs of the lego sculptures at its offices in New York's Chelsea. The New York Times reporter, stymied by Google's publicists, obtained images from a brave insider—who will no doubt soon be sweeping the floors at one of the internet monolith's server farms.

casual racism

Are There No Black Googlers?

Blogger Addy Fox, who is dating a Googler, took advantage of her beef's two allotted monthly visitor passes and checked up on the accuracy of our assessment of the Googleplex, which we'd found shockingly crappy. She discovered that we were wrong about some things—for instance, the cafeteria is on the 8th floor, not the 16th (I'm bad with numbers!). But we were right when we assumed that the cold chicken wings and tragicomic sushi weren't representative of usual Google fare: "They have an actual sushi chef in one of the cafeterias who made me a truly delicious spicy tuna roll ... then, as we took our trays out onto the terrace, we were greeted by a buffet of tasty 'Mexican Street Food,' complete with mango and tutifruiti soda." Yum yum. But you know what's not so delicious? RACISM. More »

From the mailbag, more about fun times in the Googleplex: "I'm a former Googler. That place fucking sucks. All the women are scary-ass clones. I was treated like a pariah because I didn't wear four inches of makeup and commute to work in flip-flops. The corporate culture is one of the most bureaucratic and uptight I've ever experienced. Don't buy the lie! Those fun-loving hippies are more corporate than Smith-Barney. P.S: People used to eat out of the cereal bins bare-handed. Gross."

sex and the googleplex

Inside The Google Cafeteria

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. More »