R&D vs. MarComm
Roleplaying Log: R&D vs. MarComm
IC Details

Gwen Stacy starts at her new job… and finds out who her new enemy is supposed to be.

Other Characters Referenced: Emma Frost
IC Date: June 01, 2019
IC Location: Frost Internation, NYC
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 22 Jun 2019 16:36
Rating & Warnings: G
NPC & GM Credits: Ron Eisen by Emma Frost
Associated Plots

Back in April, Frost International received an application from one STACY, GWENDOLYN MAXINE for its summer R&D internship program. It's a paid gig (and obscenely so for an internship), which is wonderful, but it promises a whole host of additional perks that make the threat of a slave-driven environment seem a little more worth it.

Invitations to a slew of Frost International marketing parties that promise a star-studded guest list. Open hours in the electronics lab for dabbling. Prototyping and patent education. They offered her the job a month later, once they got through the lengthy hiring process and gave her a start date of the first of June. One month, and the intern job was hers.

Which is today. She's spent most of the morning in the first day being handed off from person to person. From her new manager in the lab to HR for the hiring, obligatory NDA, and tax forms. From there to security for a badge. From there to the intern briefing meeting, where the company begins the typical brainwashing about the brand and expectations for interns on maintaining it. Expectations, even for the lowly interns, are high.

But here we are, so close to the end of the first day, and Gwen has finally been handed back into the care of her supervisor, the lab manager, Ron Eisen. She's the only intern that the R&D department got this year, and it may be hard to determine at first whether or not that's a good thing.

Still. He moves to settle on a stool by a soldering table that's presently empty, and sips from his unsweetened cup of oolong as he looks to Gwen. He slides her a cup. "You survived," he notes with a smirk. "That's always the hardest part. Especially when you get in there with the marketing interns." Ron waggles his eyebrows comically. "They're a murderous lot."

"I've survived worse," Gwen observes mildly. "Like, this one time, I was swimming in a lake, and a piece of seaweed brushed my toes. I almost died," she deadpans. She glances around the room, wondering mostly absently if Ron puts his credentials on the wall or what. It doesn't much matter if he does. She rests her hands in the pockets of her lab coat, figuring it'll be good practice to keep her hands away from things, and asks, "But the marketing types are bad, huh?"

Ron doesn't, for the record, at least not in the public space. Granted, the public lab spaces are pretty spartan in general. His thick glasses steam up a little as he lifts his mug to sip. On the subject of marketing, he shrugs. "I think it's the nature of the beast. I mean, don't get me wrong: we're competitive down here. But there aren't as many of our type as there are of their type. Everything about 'em is image and looking better than the person next to them. They're the worst when it's expo season and they're trying to get the free trip to Spain."

Gwen perks up a little - Spain? Neat! - but settles back down within herself. Stay on mission, Gwen. You're not trying to go to Spain, you're trying to go to a specific New York. "So about how bad do they outnumber us? I ask because I might know some ringers."

Ron considers. "Well, as far as the interns go? I got you. MarComm gets… six, I think? But I just meant in general. Science gets a little niche. The number of people applying into a luxe tech company for the science of it? Man. I just don't envy the hiring folks over there. It's all people who… image is all they do. And there are so many of them."

Gwen notices Ron repeating almost exactly the same complaint as before, and decides to see what happens when she changes the subject. "Still, we're all on pretty much the same team, right? Still trying to get the work done, in our own ways?"

Ron raises an eyebrow, and then awkwardly clears his throat. "Uh… Down here, maybe." His finger jabs upwards. "Up there? Noooot so much. They practically weaponize the interns." His hand gestures about as he talks, rumbling along in his friendly tone. "For example, last summer. These interns just crawl the internet all day. Facebook, Instagram, luxury lifestyle sites. One of them found pictures of the magazine liaison and another intern sporting another brand and not living up to the "extra" image of Frost International, I forget where. Anyway, this intern makes it a private campaign to start putting up badly photoshopped images of these two all over the marketing office when the vendors weren't in. Holding Bud Light cans, bottles of Seagram's coolers, or packs of Black & Milds or McDonald's fries. You get the picture. Made it a WAR up there. VP of marketing finally sees it… gets the story… and doesn't fire the intern who was making all of the posters. She fires the two who got caught looking cheap."

He pauses, and then adds, "Guess who's got a full-time job in that department right now?"

Gwen blinks her way through this monologue, and guesses cautiously, "Uh… your evil twin brother who's trying to claim your inheritance as his own?"

Ron barks a laugh, narrowly avoiding spitting his tea everywhere. "I think that would be a better fate," he offers in amusement. But then he sobers up. "Anyway, yeah. I just find my work life is generally improved by spending it off their floor. But tomorrow, we'll get started. You'll forget they're even up there." Leaning back in his chair, he smiles and brings his tea with him to rest it on his belly. "I'll show you the one environmental system for next year's yacht line. Controls the lighting and air conditioning and music of the cabin. Smart Home on the seas."

"I can't wait to see it," Gwen says. It is mostly the truth: the system does sound interesting. "Why do you call it 'the one,' though?"

Ron's smile turns conspiratorial. "Because we've got an upgrade that we're working on to release for it if we hit the stretch sales goal in Q2." He winks. "Can't parade out all of the surprises on Day 2."

Gwen, who once watched a YouTube video about how Kickstarter works, grasps the thrust of this answer if not the fine details, and nods. "So it sounds like a computer program of some kind? I can do computer stuff. Or did you mean you're just showing me?"

"It's a program, yeah," Ron confirms with a simple nod. "And some of the modules still need some working out. It'll be the most complex one we've done to date." His smile takes a fatherly cast, and then he sets the cup down after a last sip.

Gwen nods. Gotta start somewhere. "What kind of coding language is it in? Something common like Fortran, or do you have a proprietary language of your own to reduce spaghetti tangling?"

Ron sucks on his teeth, and then gets onto his feet and leaves his tea on the table. "One sec." He leaves the room, disappearing into his glass-walled office for a moment. Gwen will be able to easily see as he lifts up a shelf-cover to reveal a row of binders. He scans them, and then pulls down a 5" binder. It is this that he hefts down, and then brings to Gwen, setting it on the table. "It's proprietary. Some of it's about streamlining, but more of it is that Miss Frost is as paranoid as they come and she nurtures that instinct in her C-Suite. Apparently, the original programmer was as squirrely as they come, but brilliant. I dunno. Was before my time."

He pats the binder. "Congratulations, Gwen. This is your brand new Bible."

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