What should one make of it? It must be somebody having a joke, right? All that contrived attitude, all those ill-fitting suits, all the nervousness thinly disguised as earnest enthusiasm, all those men (and women!) doing weak impersonations of Torquemada, all that hair gel…
This is surely a conscious parody on the sillier side of post-80s corporate culture, isn’t it? Got to be. Nice one, whoever you are.
* * *
A little while later I was sitting by the fire, ruminating on the continual competition between the world and me to decide which of us is stranger, when I became conscious of rolling something between my fingers. I looked down to discover a piece of soft, polythene-like material. It was black, and I have no idea what it was or how it came to be in my hand.