I worked at Wired on and off from 1995 to 2003. As the years passed, the vegetarian, colorful 20-something office gradually gave way to corporate, Niman Ranch brisket-eating 30- and 40-something hues, with endless staff changes. Throughout this, Bill never budged. Even in the beginning he had an authoritative and brisk, no-nonsense way about him that intimidated me slightly, but which I also admired and took comfort in. Because, well, Wired wasn’t always the warmest place to work. Many seemed too absorbed in their jobs to have time to get to know each other, and as a freelancer I often felt on the edge of things. But Bill was a constant genuine and respectful presence. His wit, dry enough to desiccate an ocean, provided comic relief that cut nicely through the ego-heavy atmosphere, forcing me to look up and laugh from behind my dictionary. By the time I left for good to move overseas, Bill was the last of the crew I’d originally started with, and the one I most regretted not getting to know better. The closest I ever got to confessing my long-held affection for him was telling our coworkers that when I grew up, I wanted to be Bill. I hope that got back to him.
Karen Eng
Cambridge, England

Bill and the boys at Alternative Press Expo 2002.
No comments:
Post a Comment