Boys. Garages.Put 'em together and what have you got?By Ian Shoales In the supermarket the other day, a man stopped his cart next to me, and off dropped two nine- or 10-year-old boys. They had that strange, bored energy only boys that age possess; they fidgeted and hopped around wildly. Their father said, in a bored, energy-free voice: "Careful." The boys ignored him. He said, "Wheaties or Rice Chex." One boy spun in a slow circle, as the other squatted to squint at the brands. "Captain Crunch," said the squatting boy. Dad said, "Wheaties or Rice Chex." "Trix," the spinning boy said. Dad said, "Wheaties or Rice Chex." I wondered if Dad's brand of stern diplomacy would prevail, and if it did, might it be a useful technique in, say, the Mideast Peace Talks? "Ooooh," said the squatting boy. "They have Sugar Crisp." "Wheaties or Rice Chex." I was amazed. Dad's tone of voice did not betray even the slightest hint of impatience. It had a soothing, robotic, hypnotic quality. "Um," said the squatting boy. "Wheaties or Rice Chex." "I want a doughnut." "Wheaties or Rice Chex." "MOM, I'M HOME!"Suddenly I became simultaneously bored by the conversation and quite alarmed. It was starting to sound like a Samuel Beckett play, but with product placement. I began to imagine Samuel Beckett as a pitchman: "Hi! Sam Beckett here for Lucky Charms. You know, I may believe that life is completely meaningless, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good breakfast." "Wheaties or Rice Chex." This conversation could go on forever like, say, the Mideast Peace Talks. So I quickly grabbed some salsa (mild) and walked away. That evening, as I was knocking back beer and chips, reading Sunday's San Francisco Chronicle, I spotted an article, reprinted from The Wall Street Journal, headlined, "Dot-Com to Dad-Mom." It was about young entrepreneurs whose Internet empires had crumbled and they'd been forced to move back in with their parents, for "free rent, clean laundry, and home-cooked meals" (The San Francisco Chronicle, April 8, 2001). They're embarrassed, yes (so the article said). Trying to phone potential investors, and there's Mom in the background yelling at them that it's time to come to dinner. She won't let them smoke their Cuban cigars in the house. They can't even send emails because she won't get off eBay. But when their paper profits turned out not to be worth the paper-free environment they existed in, where else could they go? THE NEXT NEW THINGTen years ago, every article about computer industry giants contained phrases like this: "... from its humble beginnings in a garage in Sunnyvale ...," "... it all began in a garage in Palo Alto ...," "... and a garage in San Carlos, believe it or not, is where it all began...." Back in the '80s, it seems, in order to create a multibillion dollar company that would dominate the tech marketplace, you first had to have a garage. And today most garages are filled with SUVs, making it extremely difficult for the multinationals of tomorrow to germinate. So why not park those monsters on the street and get junior back to work? And keep him focused. You could even use the supermarket dad's mantra. If he says, "A scalable peer-to-peer encrypted exchange that works in real time," you say, "Wheaties or Rice Chex." If this doesn't work, you could probably resort to: "Get in that garage, young man, build me the Next New Thing, and don't come out until it's done!" If I had a pale, slightly pudgy man in his late '20s living in my garage for free, believe me, that's what I'd do. IAN SHOALES has a garage and lots of great ideas! He lives in San Francisco. |
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