Word: one
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...troops are silent. Stunned. Amazon, profitable? It's autumn 1999. For years these people have been racing toward a horizon that no one, save perhaps their utopian-futurist boss, even really sees. They know much of the Silicon Valley/Wall Street/media complex believes the commodification of online retailing will lay their company to waste. Amazon the Web's golden child, darling of NASDAQ day traders who raise its market cap even faster than the company bleeds money, is also Amazon the avatar of all that may be ephemeral and fraudulent about the dotcom revolution. Now Bezos has named a date one...
This Thursday afternoon the e-Cards crew is sitting around a conference table, trying to make one another laugh. Today's subjects are office humor and holidays in February. A "Valentine's Day, My Ass" card for lonely hearts? Possibly. A motivational groundhog speaker? Probably. A support group for obscure Presidents? "'I passed the Smoot-Hawley tariff, but do I even get a tire ad?'" Absolutely...
...equity stakes in start-ups like drugstore.com pets.com and Gear.com and struggling eBay-wannabe divisions: zShops and Auctions. Who are these guys now? What does Amazon represent? And will the company's more than 13 million customers stick around for power drills and wide-screen TVs? "No one's sure where all this is going," says Carrie Johnson, an analyst with Forrester Research and an Amazon optimist. "Initiatives like zShops and Auctions are distracting to the brand. They need a tab on the home page that says, OTHER CRAP...
...since mid-1998, the company has grown from one online store to more than a dozen, and from 1,100 to more than 5,000 love-it-or-leave-it, multitasking nomads. Ask the average Amazon employee for his or her business card. He will stammer and pat his pockets, explaining that, well, his number changed; she has a new job title; their group just moved; the new cards aren...
...attached to our office," says Marcus, who has moved nine times in three years. Resettling in the suburbs might make sense, but the troops keep voting it down, clearly dreading Seattle's horrendous traffic. Instead they huddle outside PacMed in a chilly dusk drizzle, awaiting one of the vans that crisscross the city from one Amazon outpost to another. "Imagine how much they're paying us," a shivering woman complains, "to stand here waiting for a ride...