Godzilla and Hotel California

Driving through Redmond, Washington, I feel I have come across an old friend. I know this person but somehow she has changed. Her hair looks a little different, her clothes a tad smarter, and the lines on her face a bit more distinguished. But her voice is still the same and I enjoy thinking about the times we have shared.

I wander onto the Microsoft campus, using an exit off the highway that is new to me but has been there for years now. I am searching for Building 5, one of the original buildings that used to be part of a quiet campus, wonderfully surrounded by trees and soccer fields. Now, campus looks exactly like Ft. Lauderdale Beach, with massive high rises blocking my view.

Tucked back in an almost forgotten corner, I am surprised to find the cluster of original buildings. They are just as confusing as they have always been, with signs that lead me away from the buildings rather than towards them. If I do not know the location, well, then I do not belong here.

“Hmmm,” I say to myself, “I wonder how many job-seeking interview candidates had a nervous breakdown trying to find the right location.”

I laugh and reminisce about my own experience of crawling across rocks to get through a parking lot in a blue suit, a peach-colored silk blouse, pearls, and heals to keep up with my interviewer who wore hiking boots and shorts.

The radio station, which has been playing a medley of Nirvana, diverts with a screaming, “Get your money for nothing get your chicks for free” which has always been a song I felt described Microsoft. Or the earlier days of Microsoft, with the parking lot packed with ego-busting sports cars and cars of “distinction and class."

Hot off the lot from the dealerships that are all within a few blocks of these buildings. Full of salesmen who checked the price of the stock more often then the employees, something hard to do. (“Why yes, if the stock just hits 95, we will be hot again. Yes, just 95. And god, imagine if it splits? Go Billie!)

For the next song on the radio I am waiting to hear the lyrics to Hotel California, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave” which would make me feel consumed with the moment, but the radio station switches to a meaningless song. I am thankful for that.

When I find building 5, I park in the visitor parking lot which is nothing new for me because I have always parked in visitor when the spaces were open. But now, I am clearly a visitor and I have the Oregon plates to prove it. No Microsoft employees live in Oregon, it’s just an annoying state that separates Silicon Valley and Redmond; annoying until it’s time to enjoy those 2 weeks of vacation a year and then, well, it becomes paradise. I look around the parking lot a bit before I go in. I feel like I am the size of an ant and I am in some bad rendition of a Godzilla movie. I wonder how Microsoft got so big. It was just a little company back then, just a few buildings clustered on the edge of a soccer field, on the edge of a sleepy town called Redmond.

I try to understand my feelings. Oddly, I find that I am not impressed with the accomplishments of Microsoft. And I am positive that it all would have happened without me so I skip the self-congratulations. I am not bitter for having not continued on to see the magnitude develop. Nor do I feel thankful, as if I should kiss the parking lot and praise god for having this opportunity. But instead I just feel small. I walk through the double doors of security, sign in, get a badge that says, “VISITOR: MUST HAVE AN ESCORT AT ALL TIMES”, and take a seat in the overly cooled lobby.

I peer carefully out at the parking lot to see if Godzilla might be lurking. I laugh, thinking of him wandering about the new high rises, the Hotel Californias that remind me of Ft. Lauderdale beach.

I do not find Godzilla. He must be a few blocks away at the Lexus dealership, singing in a loud, scratchy gorilla voice, “Get your money for nothing, get your chicks for free” to the lonely and tired Lexus salesman.