I'm Feeling Lucky_ The Confessions of Google Employee Number 59 - Douglas Edwards [203]
Meanwhile, I had moved on to the business section of the document, a sixteen-page description of every product Google offered, our partners, our technology, and our corporate culture. I had a lot of changes there as well. Larry seemed more willing to incorporate input on that aspect of the filing, and I was invited to join the group finalizing the document at the printer's.
When I arrived, I sat quietly. The room was intimidating and filled with suits worn by men of importance. Jonathan Rosenberg was in the chair to my left. He greeted me warmly and introduced me as "the voice of Google." "If Doug says it's not Googley, we need to change it," he informed the group.
Everyone opened their books to the business section and someone began to read aloud. "'Google is a global leader in web search,'" he intoned, "'a web advertising innovator, a top Internet destination, and one of the most recognized brands in the world.'"
"I rewrote that," I said, clearing my throat. "It should say, 'Google is a global technology leader focused on improving the ways people connect with information.'"
"Why?" piped up a guy in an ironed polo shirt. "What's wrong with what we have?"
"Google's mission is not limited to search," I told him. "Just last week we launched an email service. We're more than a search engine."
And so it went for hours. At one point I tried calculating how much it would cost to hire everyone in the room for just one minute, assuming five hundred dollars an hour was probably the least any of those around the table charged for their time. By that estimate, my talk was not cheap, but Jonathan prodded me to speak up each time he sensed I was being reticent. When I got home at two a.m., I sent him a private thank-you note for his encouragement before collapsing into bed. He answered at seven the next morning, and it was unclear if he had slept in the interim.
"You did a great job," he wrote. Your changes were all well written, thoughtful, and you defended them based on your understanding of Google, the founders, and the history of how we've handled prose for the last five years. There is no one in the company who could have been more effective. You came through in a big way last night for the cause." He copied the message to the entire executive team.
Suddenly I felt bad about the whole carwash thing.
I'd like You to Be the First to Know
"Please come to a company meeting today at 11:30 in the TGIF area," said the email that went out to all Googlers on Thursday, April 29, at eleven a.m. "Full-time employees only, please. Be prepared to show your ID badges."
The TGIF area was Charlie's Café. By the time I arrived at eleven-fifteen, the building was packed. Every Googler I'd ever seen, and many I'd never met, either sat in the rows of folding chairs or leaned over the balcony railing.
At the front of the room, four microphone stands stood on the low stage, waiting, each mic covered with a windscreen in one of the Google logo colors. The mics were not the wireless ones Larry preferred, because our security manager worried that someone outside the building could pick up the signal from a wireless mic. The wall at the back was made of three-foot-wide perforated metal panels that curved in a semicircle and stretched to the ceiling. A row of potted plants marked the front of the stage, and two banners printed with enlarged Google doodle logos hung at the back. On one banner, Albert Einstein peered out of an o. On the other, two aliens sat on the letter g and looked down