Worst Amusement Park Ever

Robbie and I were just talking about how much things have changed in our old division. Our former lead worker has now given notice – because he found another job elsewhere in the agency, I’m glad to say. Seeing the goings-on in that place is like watching a train wreck in slow motion, only, you know, fast. I’m so happy he could escape before it sucked him down to a watery grave.

It’s a really bad train wreck, okay?

Robbie was suggesting that the last survivor of our new-hire group over there ought to sell tickets for guided tours, and maybe put up commemorative plaques showing where employees of note used to sit. Don’t disturb the remaining denizens of the place, though. They may bite.

So I got to thinking. What if we made sort of a theme park out of it? As far as we can tell, it always was a circus. We could start off with a tour of the cubicle maze, and each paying customer would be given a bag of microwave popcorn to toss to the inhabitants during the tour.

Alas! Like Ralph the Swimming Pig, many of our old division’s star attractions are things of the past. Gone Transportational has gone somewhere else, as has the string of security guards that trailed for so long in his wake. There is no more Coworker-You-Idiot; the section director fobbed him off about a year ago, quietly, on another manager who is a good friend of hers. (Or was.) There’s no more Phantom Pharter, no more Bitching Bubbly Nonsmoker. But we could hire actors to dress up in character suits, and you could get your picture taken with them.

If you happen to be of the female persuasion, I wouldn’t stand too close to C-Y-I.

Speaking of which, there would of course be hands-on activities for kids of all ages. Visitors with a yen for antiques could see what it’s like to 10-key in a page of authentic 1974 pavement statistics, marvel at the greenscreen displays, and thrill to the old-timey bells on the telephones. Feeling a bit more daring? Try entering some data into the mainframe, but be careful: F2 saves your updates. F3 clears the screen. F8 vaporizes the city of San Angelo. So don’t hit the wrong one!

If you’re into really extreme adventure, why not take the “Phantom Pharter Secret Identity” challenge? We’ll issue you a gas mask, which will also provide some protection if you must visit the rest room. Other forms of “protection” may or may not be available there, but a certain amount of psychological damage is practically guaranteed.

Wear a tank top, but bring a parka – the wildly unpredictable AC is an adventure all by itself! And when you’re ready for a break, have a quick one, just 45 minutes or so, in the historic 3-Martini-Break-Group spot. It’s weed-choked and dusted over with ashes now, but if you listen carefully, you can still hear the faint echo of laughter and the rattle of cocktail shakers.

Cap off your visit with a tour of the locker rooms and shower facilities so detailed and thorough, you’ll swear your guide must live there. What could be more relaxing?

We’ll make a fortune! And the best part is that all proceeds go to save the – well, no, actually. Robbie and I are going to spend them all at Dominican Joe.