Chipzilla staff lose control of mouths in pub shocker
Walls have ears, Careless talk costs lives etcetera Intel is terribly, terribly keen on training its insiders in the pros and cons of dealing with the media (see Intel media guide story here). But it would appear that one area is sadly missing from Chipzilla’s grand plan -- how to spot a journalist in the wild. Seated in the comfort (?) of some dodgy London boarding house’s conference facilities at some interminable briefing on Constant Computing or some such waffle, it’s easy to spot the hacks – they’re the ones without ties. But in the more anonymous surroundings of a pub (not much chance of meeting a Register staffer there, methinks) spotting the journo who could spill the beans on the cancellation of Merced, the impending takeover of AMD or the latest price increases at Craig Barrett’s dude ranch is not such an easy task. Now, all UK Intellers are forced to live in Swindon and must therefore travel from Paddington to get there from London. The Sherriff, living in the wilds of Wales, must also catch his train here. The British public transport system being what it is, travellers frequently have to while away an idle hour or three in the bar whilst awaiting the latest inexplicable excuse for delays. Imagine then the scene: at Paddington station’s ritzy Reef watering hole, this reporter found himself standing next to two besuited dudes with ties and tongues casually loosened after a hard day’s graft. Normally, British good taste would preclude listening in on fellow drinker’s ramblings, but our well-trained ears could not fail but to hear a generous sprinkling of Intel’s fabled TLAs (Three Letter Acronyms). When we hear of FAEs, SSTMs or FSAEs (yes, I know the last two are FLAs, just put it down to overclocking) our little ears prick up, bigtime. What shocking revelations would these two imbibers imbue? Well, dear reader, unfortunately little of import. Other than to regale the assembled company with their latest paintballing exploits, nothing of any interest was revealed other than precisely what employee X did to employee Y and with what and from where the JPEGs could be downloaded. But the message is clear: if you are a disaffected Intel employee with an axe to grind, what better place to grind it than Paddington station at around 1815? We’ll be there, rely on it.
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