the making of ghost towns..

the wind blows.. apart from the sound of dead trees creaking, nothing seems else seems to be present.


you walk down the hallway - and the echos of your steps break the omnious silence.. and the echoes bounce off the far side of the hallway.

where did everyone go?

.. on the left, a hastily scribbled note can be seen pinned on the signboard. you approach it only to see the words are written in red. blood-red.

suppressing the urge to throw-up and run, you grimly try to decipher the cryptic words:

"first there were a group of us. we knew it was bad, but we thought we were strong enough. good enough.

Then it started. First they eyed us, as if to pick up the first victims. We stayed true to our honor and bravely fought. but it was too much for us. Friend after friend fell, dragged screaming to whatever awaited them. it seemed like regardless of how good we were, it didn't help us fend off these attackers.

God help us! I hear them coming. There are only 6 of us left now - and I don't believe that we can survive the next wave. Oh God have mercy on our souls!"

the rest of the note was covered by a big red stain..

grimly shaking your head, you prepare to explore the rest of the ghost town...



I'm referring to the beheading downsizing trend that many companies are doing now. When will they ever learn that it costs so much more to find and train good talents, than to downsize?


written in tribute to those selected for the chopping board. I share your pain.