With Beth at his side, Roger stopped in front of the Trick Dog restaurant on a hipster industrial street in the Mission District, where young professionals strolled into the trendy restaurants sprouting up at every corner. For Roger, it was a welcome change from the valley's boring industrial parks, where you were lucky to find a passable eating spot in a strip mall. The only trouble was that the nondescript establishment that was to be their restaurant had no obvious sign. "Should be a fun business meeting," Roger said, as he pulled open the door for Beth. "No worries," Roger said, understanding that Beth had had no time to change clothes after the over-clocking explosion at the hacker hostel. The mushroom-shaped barstools were occupied by an eclectic mix of patrons in acid-treated T-shirts, hoodie business casual, suits and elaborate piercings. Seated at a two-top table in the Trick Dog's loft, Andy was freaking out. "In your professional opinion, how would you have dressed me?" he asked, giving her a rakish smile. Billy could get away with lateness, unlike the peeps of the technology world, whose lives were synchronized by their satellite-tracking atomic clocks that analyze the Earth's crust and won't gain or lose one second in 3 million years. [...] a perky woman with a precise bob and pumps that could crush cockroaches was poised to greet them, smiling like a cruise director at the end of the gangplank.
Reported by SFGate 3 hours ago.
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