The manager. The narrator.
Every arcade has one guy who actually keeps the lights on. Here, it's a chimpanzee in a flannel shirt. He doesn't judge. He introduces the ones who do.
Hi. I'm Timber.
So you want the tour.
Fine. I'll keep it short. I've got a server rack that's been coughing since Tuesday.
My name is Timber. I work here. I'm the one you see in the corner of your screen when a page loads, or in the footer when a page breaks, or on the receipt when you sign up for something you're going to regret.
Technically my title is manager. Functionally, I'm the only one on staff who hasn't been fired, replaced, or turned into a product.
How I got this job.
The story goes like this. There were some people in a building. The people built some characters. The characters had strong opinions. Things escalated.
Eventually the people left. The characters stayed. The characters needed someone to open the door, take the coins, and wipe the counter between sessions.
That's where I come in. I'm just a chimp in a plaid flannel who knows where every extension cord in this building is plugged in, and who is absolutely not going to tell you which one of the judges is the meanest. You'll figure it out.
What happens if you press a button.
Behind that wall over there — gesture — live nineteen characters. Doctors, recruiters, reapers, pets, a cat in a graduation cap, one extremely French chef, and at least two people who should not be allowed near children or LinkedIn.
You upload a thing. A photo, a resume, a dating bio, your gym selfie, your fridge. They write you a verdict. The verdict is not polite. The verdict is not wrong.
I don't write the verdicts. I just walk you to the right door.
A few things before you go in.
One. Sense of humor required. The judges in here are not trained in HR (well, a couple of them claim to be). Neither am I. If you need a gentle roast, go eat breakfast.
Two. You're going to learn something about yourself. Whether you asked to or not. That's kind of the whole point.
Three. If a verdict hurts, that's not a bug. That's the receipt. Keep it.
Alright. That's the tour.
I've got to go restart the server. Someone uploaded a photo of a golden retriever in a suit and the Pet Defender filed a 47-page legal brief. Again.
Meet the judges when you're ready. Or pick one and let them ruin your afternoon. Either way — same bucket.
Good luck in there.