Highly Anticipated, Unexpected Announcement

Our development group leader scheduled a meeting on short notice. The summoned participants included what is considered in our department the “best-of-the-best”, strongest, fastest, and most-likely-to-suckseed. Oh yes, and me.

I am a code-developer. At least it is implied from my LinkedIn profile. What it actually says is: “Team Leader in Coffeex”, which is not true.

For one, I am not a team leader. I am the worst leader I ever met. The last time I led a team it was made out of two other people, who resigned two weeks after the team was created. I suspect it was that, or suicide, so at least it means there is an alternative to me.

Second fact is that “Coffeex” does not exist anymore. It was bought in a multimillion transaction about a year ago. How many millions (you may ask)? Lots. More than ten, less than a million. Who bought us (you may ask — you are a bit of a nuisance)? None other than the well known, mighty, multi-everything cooperative: “NCM United”. Who the hell is that (you may ask again — stretching my patience very thin)? Google it!

“NCM United”, originally “National Coffee Machines”, is an American based coffee-machines, hot-beverages-automation and brewing-software company. Its main strength is in the hardware area, but it wanted to expand its software market, especially these days that you can pour fresh cappuccino straight out of your iPhone 8.

Coffeex developed one of the most advanced coffee making software in the world (or at least — the most complicated one). NCM wrote an 8 zeros check, and now it had the most advanced coffee making software, etc.

In the 15 months that passed since the deal, NCM did everything it could to kill the software it paid so much to acquire. Moving customers from the Coffeex solution to outdated vending machines, reducing the product range to a minimum, and limiting the new project bids to… well, zero.

And after all this, we arrive at the present day, when we were all sitting around, doing pretty much nothing, waiting for the final closure announcement. And then: this meeting happened.

Bob (that is our group leader) entered the meeting room, hung a “do not disturb” sign on the door, and locked it. After sweeping for bugs, he made his statement:

“Gentlemen.

“I am here to tell you about the most recent decision made by the almighty NCM management on the other side of the world.

“After this weekend the Coffeex software is no more. You few chosen ones will replace it with a brand new software. A better software. A faster software. A software better suited for today’s xanthine alkaloid consumption needs.

“You have 48 hours to decide if you want to be part of this vague and shapeless endeavor, or stay behind working on the crumbling remains of the old, stale and insignificant working product.

“This project, should you decide to accept it, is top secret, and should not be mentioned by any of you for the next 120 minutes.

“This message will self-destruct in five seconds.”

This was the introduction to what is going to be (probably) the most mundane and unimaginative NCM project, known now only by its code name: NEMO.

My next post will give the details of this initial meeting, which I cannot disclose at the moment, for it is only an hour and a half since it began.