rock217 · April 8, 2024 13:00
diff --git a/cd.txt b/cd.txt
 This one time I was working at a startup downtown. We had our “offices” at a location called WeWork, a startup incubator over by South Station. It’s basically the TGI Fridays of work spaces, lots of random stuff on the walls, beer, pingpong, etc. They also had this neato plush chicken that seemed to make its way around, we would see it randomly in a meeting room, other times in the cafeteria. It was kind of awesome, and always a topic of conversation.

 Mind you, this was a really fancy chicken. Brass beak and talons, custom made, super soft. It could be used as a footstool, or it could just sit there looking fabulous. It was basically the mascot of the whole office, everybody loved it. We would often joke about “leaving with the chicken” if/when we were ever successful enough to depart WeWork in favor of our own space.

 When that day finally arrived, we found our new home around the corner on South Street. We would still frequent WeWork as they had free beer and tech talks, also their physical security was somewhat trivial to breech, so why not?  One evening, after a little too much post-successful-software-release-celebration, we found ourselves in their cafeteria enjoying the free pizza and beer provided by Microsoft, and there it was. Sitting right by the door. That fucking chicken!

 Without words we all exchanged glances, huddled around our target, and escorted it towards the far elevator. When we hit the street we scattered, and rather than leaving it at the office, (we had a newly appointed CEO from our board of directors) I took it home where it began a new life amongst my kitchen plants. It was the perfect crime.

 Until about two weeks later when one of the WeWork community managers, who we nicknamed Bowl-Cut, arrived at our office inquiring about some stolen art. It turned out this plush chicken was a very expensive plush chicken. Like 5 figures. It also turns out they had really, really high resolution CCTV footage of pretty much everywhere in the building. Apparently it took three people weeks to go through all the footage until they spotted the only 6'6" individual that worked there, running off into the night with their mascot.

 Later that day our HR manager and cofounder huddle me and the other engineer into a conference room and tried to good-cop bad-cop us for a bit. HR guy finally cracks and lets loose: “Now, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, but something is afoul.” After a good laugh, they asked me to resolve the situation. I guess we had been threatened with legal action, but only if the chicken was not returned by that Friday.

 So I slinked back with my chick-in-a-box, and left it for the community manager in the cafeteria where I had found it. As I furiously punched the button for the elevator, Bowl-Cut opened it up. At long last the chicken emerged amidst cheers / shouting / celebration; their mascot had been returned, and all was well again in the WeWork universe. I escaped without further incident, having learned an important lesson about things not to do at the office.

 And THAT is how I earned the nickname "Cocknapper." It's also why I can never go back to WeWork.
	This one time I was working at a startup downtown. We had our “offices” at a location called WeWork, a startup incubator over by South Station. It’s basically the TGI Fridays of work spaces, lots of random stuff on the walls, beer, pingpong, etc. They also had this neato plush chicken that seemed to make its way around, we would see it randomly in a meeting room, other times in the cafeteria. It was kind of awesome, and always a topic of conversation.

	Mind you, this was a really fancy chicken. Brass beak and talons, custom made, super soft. It could be used as a footstool, or it could just sit there looking fabulous. It was basically the mascot of the whole office, everybody loved it. We would often joke about “leaving with the chicken” if/when we were ever successful enough to depart WeWork in favor of our own space.

	When that day finally arrived, we found our new home around the corner on South Street. We would still frequent WeWork as they had free beer and tech talks, also their physical security was somewhat trivial to breech, so why not? One evening, after a little too much post-successful-software-release-celebration, we found ourselves in their cafeteria enjoying the free pizza and beer provided by Microsoft, and there it was. Sitting right by the door. That fucking chicken!

	Without words we all exchanged glances, huddled around our target, and escorted it towards the far elevator. When we hit the street we scattered, and rather than leaving it at the office, (we had a newly appointed CEO from our board of directors) I took it home where it began a new life amongst my kitchen plants. It was the perfect crime.

	Until about two weeks later when one of the WeWork community managers, who we nicknamed Bowl-Cut, arrived at our office inquiring about some stolen art. It turned out this plush chicken was a very expensive plush chicken. Like 5 figures. It also turns out they had really, really high resolution CCTV footage of pretty much everywhere in the building. Apparently it took three people weeks to go through all the footage until they spotted the only 6'6" individual that worked there, running off into the night with their mascot.

	Later that day our HR manager and cofounder huddle me and the other engineer into a conference room and tried to good-cop bad-cop us for a bit. HR guy finally cracks and lets loose: “Now, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, but something is afoul.” After a good laugh, they asked me to resolve the situation. I guess we had been threatened with legal action, but only if the chicken was not returned by that Friday.

	So I slinked back with my chick-in-a-box, and left it for the community manager in the cafeteria where I had found it. As I furiously punched the button for the elevator, Bowl-Cut opened it up. At long last the chicken emerged amidst cheers / shouting / celebration; their mascot had been returned, and all was well again in the WeWork universe. I escaped without further incident, having learned an important lesson about things not to do at the office.

	And THAT is how I earned the nickname "Cocknapper." It's also why I can never go back to WeWork.
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