Sometime middle of last week, the paperboy started talking to me again. For those that don't remember, the paperboy is our marketing director. The guy who, long ago, used to be in charge of IT. Please don't ask how that happened, as we in IT are still trying to run the simulations to see how it's even possible for a wood working company to believe IT should fall under marketing.

Now, the reason this was startling to me is the paperboy hasn't so much as acknowledged my presence in about six months outside of once when he fucked up a query so badly that it brought the iSeries system to its knees. The one thing he does outside of reading newspapers and magazines is spend lots of time writing queries that would make the world's best thinkers ponder for months to understand what purpose they serve.

So, my gears are turning trying to figure out which of the following were true:

• He chatted with dad and found out about the bike. He rides bike, and wanted to chum it up about it. (Least likely.)
• He suddenly realized he's come across like a sullen little bitch to me over the past few months when I'd either wave or say hi to him and he didn't respond. (Almost as unlikely as above.)
• He wanted something from me and was working up the sack to just ask for it. (Most likely.)

So, the weekly IT staff meeting, which tends to only take place about once a month these days, happened yesterday. Destro, the boss, says, "heads up NFB. Paperboy came to my office a few days ago holding your FunhousePRO website proposal and saying, 'we need to do something about FunhousePRO, and this may be it.'"

I held up my hands, said, "wait, give me a minute." And sat there, silently allowing the processors to whir.

Let's back the truck up a bit.

Approximately four years ago, the problems with the FunhousePRO website became so epic, so astronomical, that the IT manager (Destro before he became Destro) and I decided something drastic needed to be done. I spent two weeks going over it with a fine tooth comb, researching, drafting, and putting together a proposal for what kind of time it would take, and how much extra cash money dollars it would take to get me to rewrite it in my free time.

When I turned the proposal in to the paperboy, it was summarily discarded, right in front of me, and put in the "never to be seen again" pile on the corner of his desk.

The fact that he could even find that proposal again was a little mind blowing. The fact that he thinks, four years later, I'm going to jump at the chance to do the same thing for the same price quoted four years ago? Um, no. First off, I'm not in the same place I was then. I don't even know if I could find the time to do it now. Second, if I did do it, it wouldn't be for the peanuts I quoted then. Third, if they wanted me to do it during the work day, there'd be some changes to consider first. I won't do my full time job now, PLUS this development job. Fourth, my hackles raised at the mere thought of it.

So, finally, in our meeting, I said, "fair warning, boss. I won't be doing it for that price outside of work hours right now. I'm not even sure I'd have the time to do it right now."

The boss, to be fair, responded, "I honestly figured you'd come unglued, run down the hall, and hand paperboy his ass for even thinking it."

"OK, then. You understand what I'm thinking close enough."

"I just thought I'd warn you. Upper management is discussing its options right now. I just wanted you to know you're being considered one of those options."

Fair enough.

Hey, I'm not saying it ain't gonna happen. I'm just saying if they bring that proposal to me, after four years, and think I'll just agree to do it at the same price, there's gonna be some serious giggles at their expense. If they come to me as a human being and say they'd like to discuss it, I'm game.

I won't give up my free time for peanuts now though. I'm a different guy than I was four years ago, and I have a lot more to give up during free time than I did then. Things that might be boring to the rest of the world, but make life worth living for myself.

Dad says the email chain has been hot and heavy over this for several days as upper management tries to decide how best to approach this. It should be interesting to watch how this one falls apart.

Please note at no point was either Destro, nor myself, surprised that it took paperboy four years to realize that the website blows donkeys, and the developer couldn't program his way out of a wet paper bag. The paperboy is pretty oblivious to most anything until it hits him square in the nuts. Then, it's a long, slow, carefully plotted reaction.

Management. Can anyone make sense of them?