So it begins

In my experience, the urge to prank someone starts with a good story. The pranking of my boss is no exception, so here's my story:

First thing's first. I'm a programmer for a games studio in the Pacific Northwest. It's a great place, full of creative, fun-loving folks. And the topper is that I have a great boss: he's the type of dude who knows how to get stuff done, but still have fun doing it.

In my year working at this place, though, I've discovered that he fancies himself a bit of a prankster.

To back up a bit, I should state that my career hasn't always been like this. I've worked for some unsavory folks at some very unhappy companies. It's a byproduct of our business, which seems to breed a special type of asshole: and I don't mean the cute type of asshole, like Steve Carrell in The Office.


In fact, my previous life was working for just that type of person, at a company that I loathed. So, as is usual in the business, I jumped ship and moved to this company, along with a couple of other dudes who were in the same boat.

Flash forward about a month at this new, wonderful job, and my Boss (who we'll just call Big J) calls the 3 of us who've joined the company into his office. We find the rest of the programming team there, everyone wearing solemn faces. Big J proceeds to in very dire tone inform us that we've received legal correspondence from my old company, stating that the terms of our being hired violate some contract that applies to our new company. Essentially, Big J tells us, it's my old boss being a master prick as usual.

The problem is that our new company is a startup, and we don't have the resources to weather an extensive legal battle with the old place. I can see the writing on the wall before he even says it: we can't work for Big J or this cool company anymore.

The 3 of us are gloomy, immediately contemplating what this means, when Big J delivers the clincher: we need to go back to our old jobs immediately, or that company and it's extensive legal resources will be suing Big J.

My mind reels: what does this mean? They want me back? They're going to pull me out of this ideal job and force me to do... what exactly? It makes no sense. But the look of utter gloom on Big J's face cements the deal.

I begin contemplating moving out of the games business for good. Maybe there's a SQL programmer job somewhere that will be easier on my heart. Maybe I should take this chance to suffer the mental breakdown I've been promising myself since my mid-20's. Maybe there's space in a Buddhist retreat in Minnesota for me.

Just as the enormity of the thing sinks in, Big J delivers the final crushing word:

"April Fool's."

So, now it's on.