It never happens to me: I am not the one who peels back the wrapper to find the golden ticket; I'm not the one who brings home the big cash prize from the weekend Vegas trip or the, “You just won two free tickets to the Super Bowl,” sweepstakes winner. It just isn't me. It's ok, don't get me wrong, I am super lucky in life: I have a great gig, an awesome family, and I have been around the globe like the paperboy around the block. I've got luck, mostly dumb luck, the kind that gives you what you need, just not the big prize on the billboard winner of life changing dreams. Heck, I'm not complaining, its just a look at how the chips fall. Until today.
Today, my luck has just changed. I just signed my pre-tour nondisclosure agreement from Willy Wonka. Yup, I am Augustus Gloop, giddy with my good fortune and getting ready for the gluttony that only a tour of the Wonka factory can provide!
A couple months back all the buzz on the Twittersphere was that it was time for all the Google minded tech educators to produce their Google Teacher Academy applications, send it in and wait to hear back from Wonka. Only 50 Google-Geeks from around the globe are picked to peek behind the curtain of the Google headquarters to receive training straight from the Oompa Loompas themselves.
Just like the kids that tore through the candy stores looking for that one golden ticket, the tech teachers couldn't sleep waiting to see if a goldenrod email arrived in their inbox, making their dreams come true. The time finally came, and just like Charlie, receiving his annual pittance of a single birthday Wonka Bar, it was the day when the google teacher candidates were to check their inbox for that magic moment. Charlie peeled back the wrapper and found only chocolate while I opened my email to find only disappointment, my inbox was empty. Charlie lied to himself saying he never really thought there would be a ticket in his one bar per year, and I told myself the same. Everyone was all a buzz on Twitter announcing that the results were in and the emails had gone out.
Twitter was broadcasting the news: There was a girl who loved to chew gum that got accepted and a kid who loved to watch TV...the results were in and I was out.
Then, sitting there convincing myself that it wasn't meant to be, I remembered someone mentioning something about a spam filter. It was like the sparkling coin in the gutter, the glimmer of hope, the eleventh hour second chance: and there it was!
Congratulations, you have been selected to attend the Google Teacher Academy in Chicago.
It is now just a few days from the tour of the factory, I have just signed my non-disclosure form: this is to protect Google in case I am contacted by Mr Slugworth promising me fortunes if I can only leave the offices with an Evaluating Gob Stopper App scripted by the Oompas in a beta lab.
I gladly signed the form, and next week, I will fly to Chicago, and although I would love to inherit the Google empire due to my pure heart and "aw shucks" demeanor, I figure I am more likely to fall into the chocolate river of Google greatness while lapping up all I can handle on the shore of Google's data stream. Since receiving my golden ticket I have done nothing but consume Google three meals a day. I now know how Agustus felt as he stood on the front steps staring at the chocolate factory.
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