The success of the "Hoo-hoo-hoo" laugh and my subsequent, soul-crushing HR meeting with Sterling had apparently marked a new phase in my employment. I was no longer just Chloe Chen, Assistant. I was Chloe Chen, Keeper of the Narrative, and my counsel was sought on matters far beyond font choices and office supplies.
Which is how I found myself, on a Tuesday morning, standing in the middle of a rented-out yoga studio that smelled of patchouli and existential dread, listening to Alexander Wilde explain the rules of "Inter-Departmental Synergy Capture-The-Flag."
"The rules are simple!" Alexander announced, standing on a small wooden platform usually reserved for zen instructors. He was dressed in what could only be described as "billionaire safari chic"—khaki trousers that were too perfectly pressed, a white linen shirt that looked immune to wrinkles, and a silk ascot. "The Marketing Mavens will be pitted against the Finance Falcons in a battle for corporate supremacy!"
Brenda from Marketing pumped a fist in the air. Her team, dressed in aggressively bright athleisure wear, let out a synchronized whoop. Robert from Finance adjusted his glasses, his team of beige-cardigan-clad analysts looking like they'd rather be auditing a root canal.
"The objective," Alexander continued, his voice echoing in the cavernous room, "is not merely to capture the opposing team's flag. It is to capture their creative energy! To understand their strategic essence! The flags are imbued with the unique vibrational frequency of each department!"
I stood off to the side next to Sterling, who was holding a clipboard and looking profoundly bored. "Vibrational frequency?" I muttered under my breath.
"Radio-frequency identification chips," Sterling murmured back without looking at me. "I had them specially made. They play a five-second audio clip when captured. Marketing's is a soundbite from Steve Jobs' 1997 keynote. Finance's is the sound of a printing press."
"Of course it is," I said, my spirit leaving my body for a brief, blissful moment.
The first "trust exercise" was, predictably, the trust fall. Alexander insisted on demonstrating the technique himself.
"Observe!" he commanded, climbing onto a low plywood platform. "I will fall backward into the waiting arms of my trusted colleagues. This act is a metaphor for the leap of faith we must all take for innovation to thrive! Ready yourselves!"
He pointed to a group of four junior analysts from Finance, who looked like they struggled to lift a ream of paper. They shuffled into position behind him, their arms held out with all the enthusiasm of people awaiting a falling anvil.
Alexander closed his eyes, took a deep, theatrical breath, and let himself go rigid. He fell backward like a felled sequoia. The analysts, to their credit, tried. There was a chaotic scuffle of limbs, a chorus of grunts, and the unmistakable sound of linen scraping against polyester. They didn't so much catch him as break his fall with their own bodies, resulting in a tangled pile of limbs, khaki, and beige on the floor.
Alexander emerged from the bottom of the pile, his ascot askew, a look of sublime triumph on his face. "Excellent! The transfer of kinetic trust was a complete success! Did you feel it?"
The analysts groaned in response.
Next was the "Blindfolded Obstacle Course of Interdependence." Teams were paired up, one person blindfolded, the other having to guide them through a maze of foam noodles and yoga balls using only "the resonant power of their shared departmental mission statement."
I watched as a blindfolded Brenda from Marketing, guided by Robert from Finance yelling "Leverage the core competency!", walked directly into a foam pillar. "Your mission statement is too vague, Robert!" she yelled, rubbing her head.
"It's fiscally responsible!" he yelled back.
The pièce de résistance was Capture-the-Flag itself. Alexander didn't just watch; he commentated from the sidelines as if it were the Olympics.
"And the Falcons are moving with ruthless efficiency! A classic pincer maneuver, but does it lack heart? Does it lack soul? The Mavens are countering with pure, unadulterated creative chaos! Look at that brand synergy! It's beautiful!"
At one point, he grabbed my arm, his eyes wide with excitement. "Miss Chen, observe! The narrative is unfolding! The struggle between cold logic and passionate creativity! It's all here!"
"It's Steve from Accounting trying to take a flag from a marketing intern half his age," I said flatly. Steve had the intern in a headlock. The intern was trying to poke him in the eye with a foam noodle.
"Exactly!" Alexander cried, missing the point entirely. "The primordial clash!"
The event concluded with Marketing narrowly defeating Finance, mostly because Brenda's team had secretly bribed the yoga instructor to move the flags while Finance was busy double-checking the rules spreadsheet. Alexander presented them with a large, ostentatious trophy shaped like a winged lightbulb.
"As you return to your desks," he announced, his voice thick with emotion, "remember this day! Remember the trust you placed in your colleagues! Remember the feel of the foam beneath your feet and the shared pursuit of a common, symbolically resonant goal! Let this energy fuel you for the quarters to come!"
The teams dispersed, a collection of bruised shins, strained lower backs, and simmering inter-departmental resentment.
Back in the office, Sterling was debriefing me on the post-event survey results. "The feedback is... mixed," he said, reviewing his tablet. "Finance reported a 15% decrease in perceived trust. Marketing reported a 300% increase in desire for a nap."
"Did he get what he wanted?" I asked, too tired to care.
Sterling looked toward Alexander's office. The man himself was at his desk, gazing wistfully at a photo someone had taken of him mid-trust-fall, his arms splayed, his expression one of beatific surrender.
"He believes the collective consciousness of the company has been elevated to a new plane of synergistic understanding," Sterling said. "So, yes. It was a complete success."
I went to my desk and sat down. My body ached from sympathetic embarrassment. My mind was numb. A notification chimed on my tablet.
AWilde: Miss Chen. That was transcendent. I haven't felt such a raw, human connection since I negotiated the acquisition of a remote Patagonian water-bottling plant. The energy in that room was... palpable.
AWilde: I need you to draft a memo outlining the key learnings from today. Focus on the metaphysical transfer of trust during the fall. I felt a shift in the very paradigm.
AWilde: And see if you can source a bulk order of those foam noodles. I'm thinking of installing a permanent obstacle course in the lobby. To keep the energy flowing.
I didn't respond. I just put my head down on the cool, unforgiving marble of my desk. The team building was over. But the suspension of disbelief it required was a full-time job. And I was due for a very, very long vacation.