The Couch, the File Cabinet, and the Calendar>>After a long night of bickering over how to arrange theoffice furniture, the new high-tech startup company isvisited by a neighbor.> the one who wanted to put the file cabinet nextto my research and development couch, no doubt so thatcustomers would assume me to be nothing but cheap clericalhelp." "I was only trying to keep them together since youinsisted the couch and the file cabinet were a matched set." "And they a matched set. I told you how Ifound them both in the same alley!" "Gentleman!" the woman pleaded. "I'm sure we wouldn't be having all these arguments ifwe didn't have so much office furniture to find places for,"Andrew.BAS said to her. She glanced around the room bewilderedly. "All I see isa ripped up couch and dented file cabinet." "That's what I mean. If we didn't have all this stuffwe wouldn't have be having so many problems." "You've been arguing all night over where to put thecouch and where to put the file cabinet?" she asked inamazement. "Well, yes," said Andrew.BAS. "I take it you don'tthink that's normal for new business owners." "It is all the fault of Andrew.BAS," S-max accused,pointing to the Cub Scoutish programmer. "He is the onewith chromosonal deficiencies in the RNA strand having to dowith the ability to arrange office furniture properly." Hegrunted. "It is no doubt those same warped RNA strands thatare responsible for his leading a life of mathematicalhooliganism as a computer programmer--" Before he could finish, their visitor pushed aside thebig-nosed computer builder and headed to the shabby chinzcouch. Grabbing one of its ends, she dragged it to thewindow. She tucked beneath its ratty cushions theschematics, printouts, engineering magazines, tools, wires,and alligator clips that spilled from them. Then shecollected the dirty throw pillows that lay scattered overthe floor like misfired salvos in a war and tossed them oneby one into a line on the couch with perfunctoryindifference. She motioned to Andrew.BAS to climb down fromthe file cabinet, and after he did so she pushed it to anempty spot beside the stairs. The programmer nodded approvingly looking around theneatened room. The computer builder gasped, "Why, this is perfect!"He circled the chinz couch, surveying it from differentangles. "This is exactly how our office furniture should bearranged. What style! What symmetry!" "But we still haven't found a place to hang the officecalendar," Andrew.BAS reminded, holding up the calendar. She snatched it and hung it on a nearby nail on thewall. S-max gasped again, "You are a genius! Mario Biuttocouldn't have done a better job. What decorating house didyou say you are with?" Their neighbor rolled her eyes at the mawkish flattery."I'm Wilma," she said, extending her hand. "I live nextdoor. I'm a professional painter." "And we're a high-tech company!" S-max said proudly,pumping her hand. "I should have known," said Wilma. "Was it yourbusiness plans that I heard being shouted at higher andhigher decibels all night?" S-max tossed his furry head. "We are planning to donothing less than usher into being the very future ofAmerican technology. That is why you heard so muchshouting. Already we have many exciting plans. We haverented a post office box. We bought $20 worth of stamps.We have procurred copies of the phone book for each of us.We stole forty pounds of 'While You Were Out' memo pads fromour former ingrateful employer. We have 700 pounds ofconfetti. Someday very soon you and our other neighborswill watch amazed as the very street we live on becomes thenext Silicon Valley. This house will be its center, ofcourse." "Mmmm," the painter said in doubt. "We were kind ofhoping that once the fraternity moved out property valueswould recover." She looked over her two tousled,cacaphonous neighbors. The little one with the blond hairand wire-rims wore a white shirt and tie, although the shirtwas rumpled and the tie was ripped as if it had gottencaught in a door. Or maybe the big one had yanked his tieor tried to tie it to a doorknob. She wouldn't put it pastthat one, for the big one had black, shifting eyes likethose of a Middle Eastern terrorist leader. He also had atwenty-pound orange and black afro that made him look like awalking fire hazard. Above grundgy bluejeans, he sported ayellow t-shirt with a faded infinity sign on it. The t-shirt looked like it had had a collision with a pizza.Clipped to his belt was a walkie-talkie. Both men hadplastic identification badges from a nearby militarycontractor clipped to their shirts. Somehow that did notsurprise her. "One of my clients is a computer company," she saidfinally. She said this with grim remorse. When she didn'tsay any more, the big one coaxed eagerly, "Please, please,tell us more!" "I painted a sign for them," said Wilma. "That's whatI do, I paint company signs. But they never picked it upand they never paid the balance. I still can't get over itbecause I put so much work into that darn thing. They hadme paint a naked woman on it--" "A naked woman?" said the computer builder. "Yeah, tangled in fanfold computer paper. It wasgross. Painting it was an incredible amount of work."