Introduction
One could easily say that we're friendly
with the LivingSocial guys. I mean, we're in the same general
Facebook/advertising space, we monetize some of their traffic, and we often
find ourselves tipping drinks at the same bars around DC. We'd even go as
far as saying that we find them "likable."
But as of late, they've started to act a bit too-cool-for-school. Like
the kid who just got his braces off or the girl who just landed a hair-curler
ad in Seventeen. Maybe it's the
big VC round. Or their newly engaged CEO. Or their new
offices. Whatever it is, it needed to be checked.
And on Wednesday, August 20, 2008, we took on the challenge. Weapon of choice?
200mph paintballs
Part 1
"Ok we're grabbing a cooler and heading out in 30."
Eddie Frederick (LivingSocial President) seemed fairly calm as we discussed
details on the phone. He was offering to buy us Gatorade and beer.
He wasn't talking a big game or making grandiose statements. The rest of
the SocialCash team and me, however, were just leaving the offices and we were
feeling a bit more aggressive: We were ready to do some damage.
"Whatever Eddie. You go get your little red cooler and ice and
Gatorade. But while you're at it, you had better go ahead and get a pair
of oversized shoes...because we're about to paint you like a clown!"
And it was on.
Part 2
"Where the hell is this place?" asked Elizabeth (Hebda) as we were
now five roads off the interstate and firmly into the quiet backwoods of Virginia. Greg was
in the passenger seat; he was starting to fidget a bit.
"Hebda stop stop stop! There it is. Right there on the
right," yelled Greg, prompting Hebda to throw her hands in the air and
scream. After realizing that she was (indeed) still alive, she grabbed
the wheel, spun around, and yanked the car into the long, gravel-strewn
driveway. She pushed down on the gas.
"See. This is what I'm going to do...leave them in a cloud of
smoke."
"But Hebda, it's not really smoke."
"But it will still blind them and turn their lungs to sludge!"
Hebda stretched out the word sludge a few more seconds than a normal person
would.
Part 3
"I just don't want to get hurt," confessed Thais, as she leaned
against a low-set green Acura parked outside the towering, red-aluminum
structure that was paintball HQ. She had been somewhat reticent
throughout the day and we could tell she was starting to get a bit anxious.
"Thais, these guys are all teddy bears. These are guys who sit in
their coding caves all day," I said matter-of-factly, though I wasn't
quite so sure that what I was saying was true. "They scream when they see
mice! They pick daisies on the way to
the office. Seriously! They have daisies all over their office."
"Really?!" Thais was warming up to the picture I was creating.
Just then, a green Range Rover pulled through the parking lot and parked about
100 feet away. "You see, here they are now," I added as the
guys popped the hatch and began to filter out of the truck. But something
instantly caught Thais's attention.
"Dan, what the….what is that? Seriously Dan, what is that?!?"
"Thais. Ok now don't freak. I'm going to cut it to you
straight. It looks like they brought their own guns."
"Okaaaay," slurred Thais, trying to process exactly how this impacted
her avoid pain plan. "And
what is that that....they are wearing!?!?" Thais was getting a bit
more impatient with each second.
"Body armor. It appears to me as though they are all wearing body armor."
Part 4
"When you get shot, put your gun in the air and scream, ‘I’m out!’” Skylar, our purple-haired
referee and host for the day was well in to his introduction when he imparted this
valuable tidbit. Most of us were
first-timers, though, and most of us also have listening problems. “If you don’t do this, you
will get bonus-balled.”
Part 5
"Oh, ha, ha, ha – Birdwhistell, it looks like you were running away!” We were all taking a break
from the first three rounds, and LS CTO Aaron Batalion was pointing to five
yellow splotches on my back. Evidently
getting shot that many times in the back in a forward-assault game is somewhat
difficult. Aaron was pleased at his observation
and witty commentary. “You bonus-balled me, Mr. Batalion,”
I piped in
“Oh. That was you?!”
Part 6
"I’m out of paint. My air is
low. My clothes are clean.” By this time, we had moved up
the hill to another course that was littered with small sheds, walls, and barrels. An outsider might consider our two teams
evenly matched, especially on a course like this, but in reality there were two
elements one could only learn on the field: 1) The Living Social guys had a ringer in head-to-toe camouflage that
we’re pretty sure came in from Quantico and 2) Eddie somehow super-charged his
gun and evidently had programmed a force-field of some kind. “Seriously, I still haven’t
been hit. Guys. Guys!”
Part 7
"Hebda, charge ahead to the right, around the white thing! Go!!!”
It was the last run of the
day and our team had been holed up towards the back of the course. With a full view from the crows nest in the
back, I could see what was happening: Our team, once devoid of strategy, was now not only moving in concert,
but also moving in on key targets. It
was our time.
“Eddie is coming around the
right of the barrel. Flank him from
behind,” I shouted out to Greg and Hebda as I ran down and approached their
position.
Then boom boom boom flap
flack flap blap. Flap flack flack floop.
“Ok, ok I’m out I’m out I’m
out!” shouted a now humbled Eddie as he looked down at the fresh splotch of
paint on his right leg. Greg thrust his
arms up in the air and Hebda wiggled around like a piece of day-old celery. She then took off her mask, wiped her brow,
and looked right at Eddie.
“Smells like…victory.”
Acknowledgements and Awards
We would like to thank the
LivingSocial guys for being present. It’s always good to show up and to come ready to work, even if your
performance isn’t all that impressive.