Yesterday was my Pony birthday — the anniversary of my first day at Fast Horse. I’ve now been here for two full years, which means my warranty is up. From this point on, I’m likely to perform exceptionally, but if not, I can no longer be returned to my manufacturer or exchanged for a newer model.
Allow me to share some of the things I’ve learned in my still-young but eventful stint at Fast Horse:
- Jorg and Scott will never stop arguing over whether Joe Mauer is a slap hitter.
- I can handle stress better than I thought, and I tend to work fairly well under pressure. Usually.
- Alli can be one of the cheeriest people you’ll ever meet, but she gets crabby when she’s hungry, and the current death of snacks in the office puts us all in great danger.
- Working for a diverse set of clients and a wide range of projects makes for a lot of fun. Every day is different.
- If Reinan tells you a story once, he’ll tell you a thousand times. Not for embellishment — just ’cause. Just ask him about the noseless man.
- Men in this office (women, too, I suppose) grow facial hair at their own risk. Certain people here are bigoted against the trichologically adventurous.
- People around here are way too camera shy and need to lighten up. We try to do a video shoot or get some party pictures and people act like we’re conscripting soldiers for overseas deployment.
- Coming from a small shop with just one or two other colleagues, it took some time to adjust to having teams of people to turn to for ideas and support. It’s awesome to have that.
- I think Jorg and Bob are the only people in this office who know anything about points east of the Metrodome. Some people here get lost just thinking about driving toward my house in Stillwater.
- All of the touchy-feely, mission-statement sort of stuff we say around here — “big ideas trump big budgets,” “we expect excellence from ourselves and each other,” etc. — are 100 percent true.
All in all, it’s been a great ride. Even though my warrant is up, I have a lot of good miles left on me. I just need regular “oil changes” in the form of pints of Guinness from Club Jager, conveniently located next door. Care to join me?