Someone at media death star Conde Nast is very sick of working at Conde Nast. How do I know this? Well, besides the extreme statistical probability of this statement, I know this because someone started a twitter of all the ridiculous things they’ve overheard people say in the Conde Nast elevator, and it’s as hilarious as it is fire-able. Why up and quit your soul-crushing job when you could go out in a blaze of heroic, shit talking glory?
CondeElevator is only a few days old, but already contains such sadly believable gems as these:
While none of these tweets are particularly mind blowing revelations, it’s always nice to have confirmation that the movies weren’t lying to us about something. That it’s about as effective as hurling rocks at a giant, laser-equipped space ship is beside the point. Like early Gawker, it entertains the creative underclass by assuring them that the people whose lives they so envy are shallow, mean, and worthy of ridicule. “We may not be taking helicopters to the Hamptons, but at least we might someday be people,” they tell themselves, as they post something mean about JWOWW in the comments section of PerezHilton.
I just hope the person running this twitter knows what he/she is getting him/herself into, because it’s only a matter of time before Anna Wintour uses her ancient vampyre powers to figure out who’s responsible for this project and incinerate him/her/them using nothing but her glare. Anyone foolish enough to risk this unpleasant end can send their overheard morsels to firstname.lastname@example.org. Happy undermining!