Angie’s List employees refer to the workplace as the company “campus.” That always seemed a bit weird to me. When I think of a “campus,” I imagine Victorian homes turned fraternity flophouses and fountains and bearded professors. I think University of Georgia. Or perhaps Auburn.
Our campus doesn’t look quite like a university. And if there are any classes taught around here, it’s probably woodworking at the county jail downtown.
Sure, some of the older buildings we’re in have their problems. The weekly tornado siren gets irritating. And once, while walking outside, a vagabond asked me to share my french fries, which was weird because I was eating an apple.
That said, we love our neighborhood. It’s historic and homely, and to move elsewhere would mean we’d have to give up rich character. We don’t see that as an option.
That’s why Angie’s List employees now sport new name tags. We got parking passes, too. The purpose is twofold: security and employee relations. Now that we have more than 350 employees, it’s not unusual to encounter someone whose name you don’t know.
I’m pleased with the nametags. I might look like a gargoyle in my photo, but at least I look official.
What kind of apple were you eating?
I bet it was a Red Delicious … traitor.
Fuji 4 Life!
Even the homeless recognize the superiority of the Gala, ofttimes called the “Champagne of apples” and “the banquet apple.”