Trolls Be Trollin’

“OK, listen up!” Jorb said over the sounds of dozens of conversations. They all died down and everyone turned in his direction.

“We have a lot of work to do, so let’s get to it,” Jorb continued. “First, I want you all to know that I’m amazed at all the work you have all been doing. Especially the political group, which has been doing inspired work. It’s been hard to keep up, what with each time Trump opens his mouth”, he said with a chuckle in his throat as he shook his head slowly, “it seems like he’s challenging us. But you’ve all stepped up and put everyone into a lather. You’ve made us trolls proud.” He began to clap as he turned toward the political team. They were a motley looking crew, but what group of trolls wasn’t? They shuffled their feet in slight embarrassment as their cavern mates clapped loudly, a few grunts and hoots accompanying this applause.

Jorb stopped his clapping, and held his green meaty hands up in “OK, OK” gesture. “It’s true! Even the bosses at Facebook, Twitter, and Google have told us what a great job they think you’ve been doing. To prove it, they’re sending down extra rations to all of us!” After dropping this bombshell, he beamed (well, as much as an ugly creature like a troll could beam) as everyone first gasped, then cheered the news.

“Oh boy, I hope its more cats! I haven’t made stew in forever.”

“I can almost taste the grog!”

“Do think they’ll send more ‘Cards Against Trolldom’ cards this time?”

Jorb grinned. He loved his fellow underground dwellers. They worked hard and deserved the extras they were getting. Personally he was hoping for another mud massage like he’d been given for his “Blue and Black or White and Gold dress” campaign he’d come up with. It seemed like a dumb idea, but he knew it was exactly the kind of thing his trolls were good at: making chaos where there was none. Getting humans to argue over nothing at all.

But seriously, that mud massage was the best reward he’d ever gotten as a bonus. Who knew the ogres had figured out something truly blissful? They weren’t known for their smarts, but that idea was genius and one Jorb was thankful for and hoped he’d enjoy again.

He circled his thoughts back to the present and continued. “Also, I want to point out the excellent work being churned out by our Reddit division. They get everything imaginable thrown at them, and day after day, they keep the troll fires burning. They are one of our busiest groups, yet Lygar and her team have done a fantastic job keeping their stats up in that crazy part of the internet.” He pointed to Lygar, who responded with an ungraceful bow and multiple thanks yous, clearly not comfortable with the lime light. She was an excellent leader but hated attention thrown at her. Brown blotches spread on her cheeks when she stood up from bowing.

“No need for blushing,” Jorb said. ”You’ve earned the praise, Lygar.”

Some snorts from the crowd.

“We can’t forget our friends in the Parenting detail. It’s exhausting work that never ends, and they come through so often it’s scary. Their handling of the breast feeding controversy was epic. The sheer volume of trolling they do is beyond impressive. Well done, trollsters,” Jorb finished.

The group working the Parenting detail tiredly raised their hands in thanks. Each one of them looked exhausted, and no wonder: they’d all been working sixty hour weeks since Ank retired to his bridge last month. Word was that they were not going to replace Ank in an effort to save some money. Jorb knew the rumor was true but couldn’t say that right now. It would kill the morale of the Parenting crew. He cleared the thought from his mind and moved on.

“Next up, Algorithms. Whatever magic you do, keep doing it.  The content producers on platforms are completely baffled as to how they work, which is exactly what we want. More confusions creates more frustration, and more frustration leads to….?”  Jorb cupped a hand to his ear.

A half-hearted response from the workers, barely audible: “More trolling.”

“I couldn’t hear that. What does it LEAD to???” His voice was controlled, authoritative and LOUD. It demanded attention.

“MORE TROLLING!” A better response, but still not quite good enough.

“I can’t hear you! One more time, like you mean it!”

“MORE TROLLING!!!” Voices boomed in the chamber. That was more like it, Jorb thought.

A toothy smile (more smile than tooth, truth be told) was back on his face. “That’s the spirit! Now, one more piece of business before we all get to work. As many of you may have heard, we are transitioning the Google+ team. They will moving and becoming part of our Instagram team, which is growing rapidly. Google+ simply doesn’t have the numbers to support a team of its own. The transition will be led by Orgtan who has spearheaded the transitions of Linkdin, Digg, and most notably MySpace. We know Orgtan will lead a smooth and seamless migration as he has done countless times before.”

Silence filled the cavern, the only noise the dripping of a stalactite. Jorb could almost feel each troll sphincter clenching. No one wanted to be part of a transition; that normally meant that a few trolls would be let go, left to find new jobs so they didn’t lose their own homes under cushy suburban bridges. It was a sad fact.

Jorb could sense the mood of the crowd and made to cheer up his workers as best he could. “Of course today is taco day here, so lunch is on us! You can have your choice of protein: worms or cockroaches, and our vegan option this week is organic fermented seaweed, imported fresh from Florida. There will be drinks too, and dessert is chocolate mud milkshakes.”

The crowd loosened up. Even a few snaggleteeth were showing in the crowd, here and there, which was good. He wanted his trolls happy. Happy trolls made for good trolling, and good trolling made sure everyone got paid.

“Ok everyone. Thanks for your time and your hard work. Now get out there and cause some internet ruckus! Raise some hell! Argue every single point, no matter how wrong or right it is! BE THE TROLL!” Jorb pumped his huge green fist in the air, imploring his workers.

“BE THE TROLL!” they all yelled, almost in perfect unison. Jorb was pleased. It was going to be a good day.

“Alrighty then. Let’s go get ‘em!”

Hoots and hollers and feet stomping came. After a few moments, they began to make their way to “the farm,” as they called it. Hundreds and hundreds of cubicles bathed in unforgiving fluorescent lights, huge computer screens and custom keyboards and mice at each desk, made to accommodate each of their thick fingers and hands. The cave was awash in faux light as they began to frantically type away, virtual fights and hand-wringing ready to be forced into action.

Just another day in the life of a troll.

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