Kill Switch: Chapter 11
The Festering Dread Blister Beneath The Surface Of My Jumpsuit
My weekly performance review call is at noon, and I’m so stressed about it that I take a double dose of Jaz and Elysium, both of which I was able to buy with my per diem. After morning huddle, I spend the morning checking off assignments in our task manager. I confirm receipt to dozens of emails. I QA Bat’s latest campaign for Foster Beauty. I draft several emails with the help of deepWriterAI and send them over to compliance, and when compliance says the emails are ready to ship, I ship them. I actualize the spend for all my accounts. I take a personality test that the Culture Department sent so that they can determine my strengths and weaknesses and categorize me appropriately within the company. I confirm my pronouns for the day. I get on a call with Bat and record my screen as I optimize his top of funnel campaign for Daft Designs, and then I tell him to write out an SOP based on the optimizations, the subtext being that I’m tired of showing him how to do the same basic shit over and over again. Then, after compliance informs me that I didn’t CC the right people on an email I sent to Younder, I return to the email strand and add two people I’ve never heard of to the conversation. I fill out a KPI report for all of my accounts and send it to the team. I join calls with Sticky Taco and Vonn Plastics. I respond to several messages from Zed about the engagement drop in the Younder account. And by noon, I not only haven’t had time to optimize any of my accounts, but I’m exhausted, so I go to order some safeUp, click the buy button, and when nothing happens, I remember that doseMoon isn’t liquid due to the rugpull and/or pump and dump scheme. Feeling absolutely helpless and cratered, I check the price of doseMoon and see that the value is rising, that in fact it’s gained 5% in the last hour, but when I try, for the millionth time, to convert my doseMoon to another coin, I get a message saying that the coin issuer for doseMoon is suffering from mal, and I'm all, like, what the hell is a coin issuer, but before I can even research the answer to that question, I get a ding from Zed, all, like, yo, Vonn 19, we’re on the call, so I click into the performance room, find myself in a screenshare with the entire content machinist team, and Zed is all, like, “hey, Vonn, can you stay on after with me?” And I know he just wants to reprimand me for being sixty seconds late to my daily performance review, and I’m absolutely tilting at this point because I’m stressed about doseMoon and coming off Jaz and Elysium, plus I’m in desperate need of some safeUp or really any kind of upper for that matter, and everyone is looking at me, my accounts pulled up, all those green and red arrows flashing, and Zed is, like, “Vonn 19, I think you’re muted,” and even though I’m not, I act like I am, looking flustered and clicking around on nothing, and then I'm, like, “yes, sorry, I was muted, I can stay on after.”
“Good,” Zed says. “Then let’s get started.”
And I smile, hoping to hide the festering dread blister beneath the surface of my jumpsuit.
We go in alphabetical order through my accounts.
Bad Bunny.
Daft Designs.
Sticky Taco.
These first three accounts are hitting their numbers and showing daily gains, so Zed and the rest of leadership are, like, alright, fine, next. Then it’s Vonn Plastics, a subsidiary of my parent company, of course. Bee Hive doesn’t manage all of Vonn Plastic's media spend – we only manage their wall surround campaign, which accounts for around ten million annual coin spend – and the campaign, as Zed immediately sees, is down 2% in the last 24 hours, so he's all, like, “whoa, whoa, what’s going on here, Vonn?” And I'm, like, “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to optimize this account today,” and then this grey cloud of confusion descends on the team’s avatars, a mixture of disappointment and shame and fear rippling on the screen, and I can see some red edging around Zed’s cheeks, but since Zed is such a nice guy, he doesn’t yell at me, but instead, in a calm voice tinged with frustration, he’s, like, “alright, let’s have a look,” and I click into the account, the individual ads flashing, and I’m all, like, “it looks like we’re hitting our numbers here. Overall we’re at a 10% engagement rate, which is our goal”
“What about the drop?” Zed asks.
“Well, if performance dropped 2% yesterday, that means we hit a 12% engagement rate the day before, effectively overshooting our goal,” and I change the lookback window to show the numbers.
“Right,” Zed says, and I can see him literally looking desperately for something wrong, and then he’s, like, “what about that ad?”
“Which one?”
“The one with the sexSimuls on the walls. It looks like it’s called wallSex-1980859303-ToF-HP-4D.”
I see the ad he’s talking about. The engagement rate is 9%. My stomach drops.
“Well,” I say. “Yeah, it looks like this ad is slightly beneath KPI, but several other ads are above KPI, so overall, at the account-level, we’re hitting our numbers.”
“I see,” Zed says, drawing out the word see. “But then, I guess, the question is, why is this ad still running when it’s at a 9% engagement rate?”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t catch it.”
“And why not? Why didn’t you catch it? Are you not optimizing your accounts?”
“I’ve been trying,” I say. “But I’ve been…”
“That reminds me, did you follow up with Ginger about the drop in performance for Younder?”
“Yes,” I say. “You’re on that email.”
“Ok, cool. I’ll have a look later. And what about that demandContact ad for Sticky Taco? How is that performing?”
“You mean the demandContact ad for Younder?”
“Yes, that one.”
“It hasn’t launched yet.”
Zed’s lip twitches. “Why not?”
“We’re still waiting on approval.”
“Do we need to follow up?” Someone from leadership asks.
“Yes, I guess we could,” I say.
“Let’s follow up,” Zed says. “And be sure to CC me.”
“Ok,” I say. “I can do that after this call.”
“Which reminds me,” Zed says. “This wallSex ad, the one you missed, what’s the audience?”
“Persy Contractors.”
“Any more audiences?”
“No, that’s it.”
“You haven’t tested lookalikes or scraped lists? Engaged shoppers?”
“No.”
“What’s your process for testing new audiences? Do you even have one, Vonn?”
All the Junior Content Machinists look away. I know what they’re feeling right now. I’ve been in their skin many times, watching another Content Machinist get grilled by a supervisor, embarrassed, made to look wanting, subpar, mid at best.
“I just want to make sure you have a process,” Zed says. “That’s all I’m asking. But we can talk about that later, on our next call. How was the performance yesterday for Younder?”
“Up 3%.” I know the number off the top of my head because I pulled the performance data for the email I sent Ginger and the rest of the Younder team, an email that Zed is CC'd on, and then I also included the number in my Daily Report Doc, which I sent over to Zed right after Morning Huddle, per his request.
“3%?” The red tinge lightens on Z’s cheeks. “I’m glad I sent you that demandContact article yesterday. Let’s go ahead and launch demandContact ads for all of our accounts since the ad has performed so well for Younder.”
I refrain from pointing out that the demandContact ad hasn’t launched yet for Younder, that, in fact, I made zero changes in the account because I simply did not have time, that the 3% increase in engagement rate was just as random as the drop the previous day. I refrain from mentioning all of this because I’d rather not bring attention to the fact that I did nothing in the account. Nor do I want Zed or anyone else to realize that my job is ultimately useless, that I am 100% replaceable, and that Bee Hive would be better off outsourcing my job to a simul.
“Just a second.” Zed throws up a finger. “I have a call from Ginger.” He mutes.
I try once again to withdraw my doseMoon. Nothing going. I search the feed for doseMoon. The first two suggestions are articles from Coin Economist. The first one, published two days ago, is entitled “doseMoon Will Make You Immediately Rich,” while the second one, published two seconds ago, is entitled “doseMoon Creator Accused of RugPull, Investors Lose Everything, Finance Czar Throws His Hands in the Air Like He Just Don’t Care.” I skim the second article and learn that the creator of doseMoon, Cad Man, has gone offGlass. I search for the feed for Cad Man. Just a bunch of articles published weeks ago, stuff like “Meet the Eunderkind Revolutionizing Finance” and “Newly Minted Tech Billionaire Talks Altruism and Utopia” and “Cad Man Spotted at The Underworld with new ‘It’ Influencer Samantha G.” I look at Cad Man’s picture. He’s got curly hair and wears a sweatsuit . He’s probably my age, around nineteen. He just looks like a normal guy. I guess it can be hard to spot a genius in the crowd.
X pings me. Bruh, total rug pull on doseMoon. I’m reading the whitePaper right now. The cryptoNomics look sound. I mean, I don’t understand all of it, but it seems like the value would definitely ascend every single day without experiencing a single drop. Ugh. I had all my savings in that shit. Oh well. On to the next play.
What about Middle Management? I ask. Can’t they recover the funds or whatever?
Nah, X types. Middle Management ain’t going to do shit. I mean, maybe they try or act like they’re trying, but this is the free market, baby. Live by the sword, die by the sword.
What does that mean in this context?
What? The free market?
No, living and dying by the sword.
Think about it, simul.
But before I can think about it, Zed gets back on my performance call and is all, like, “Vonn, I just got off a call with Ginger and apparently engagement rate has dropped 3% in the last hour. What have you been doing the last hour? Are you not optimizing? Do you not have a process?”
And I’m all, like, “well, the last hour, I’ve been on this performance call, and before that…”
Z interrupts. “We need to make sure we’re on the same page, Vonn. I feel like we’re not on the same page.”
And then Kitty Kay, Vice Prez Of Virality, unmutes and is all, like, “I think, Zed, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be aligned than on the same page.”
“You’re right, Kitty Kay,” Zed says. “Let’s make sure we’re aligned. Then we can get on the same page.”
Kitty Kay’s eyes brightens as she sends some good vibe emojis floating up the screen share.
“This is a safe space,” Zed says, apropos of nothing. “And we’re a family.”
Leadership starts flooding the screen with clapping emojis and such. Many of them I’ve never even spoken to. I’m not even sure why leadership is on every single performance review call for every single Content Machinist. I wonder what leadership even does at Bee Hive, aside from sitting in on calls and sending the occasional good vibe emoji.
“So let’s do this,” Zed says. “Let’s start a doc, write a POV, and make a dashboard which highlights both small wins and roadblocks, so we can bring this initiative to the finish line.”
“Which initiative?” I ask.
“What’s that?” Zed asks. His face is beaming with bright colors. “Can everybody see my screen?”
“Yes,” Kitty Kay says. “We can see your screen.”
“Perfect,” Zed says. “So let’s nail down a launch ETA and then type up an email draft about the initial microdata signals in the account.”
“Which account?”
“Um…Younder.”
“Right,” I say, “ok,” even though I’m not sure what Zed is asking me to do.
“And let’s meet later, Vonn, to go over the xTonic account, I’m seeing a drop in engagement in the last fifteen seconds. Why didn’t you catch this sooner? We have to find a way to catch engagement drops sooner.”
“I didn’t catch it,” I say, “because I’ve been on this call, answering your questions.”
“Well, of course,” Zed says, “there’s always going to be questions when engagement drops. Don’t you see the benefit in these calls?”
But before I can answer, Kitty Kay claps her hands. “Alright, let’s go create some value, Bee HiveFamily! You’re all rockstars in my book!”
And then the screen turns red with heart emojis, and I find myself imagining what it would be like to quiet quit, tube a semiautomatic blaster, take the gun to an orgy club, unload the laserclip on a crowd of randos, and then turn the gun on myself and blow out my fucking brains.