Anyway, Zuck starts gushing about how great it is Facebook now has 100 million users. I'm thinking, "Yeah, great, we're buying unlimited photo storage for 100 million freeloaders. Have you ever done the bandwidth bill on that, kid?" But he won't shut up. I close my eyes, breathe, put on my happy face, and reply, "Yes, Mark, that's an amazing milestone. We really should celebrate it appropriately. What do you think of Joe putting on a wine-and-cheese reception this evening, like he used to do for me at Google?"

Zuckerberg's face darkens. "No!" he shouts like a toddler. "We're doing a toga party!"

My smile stays pasted on. I calculate the risks.

"Of course, Mark! This is your company. I understand how important the culture is."

I get on the phone to Joe Desimone and tell him — surprise! — we're throwing a party. He can cater for 500 on no notice, right? Mark leads his children's crusade out to the park. I stay behind to rework the Q3 spreadsheets. After he's done cheering them with a megaphone about how they're changing the world, they head straight to the cafeteria building. There's a keg of beer there. No, there are three kegs. No, five.

I can't dodge them anymore, so I walk in and survey the roomful of kids in bedsheets that came from God knows where. They're all 23. They're all dating each other. They're all hopped up on beer and Red Bull that our shareholders paid for. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic. I can't face these brats. I glide to the bathroom, lock the door, and do the deep-breathing exercises my yoga master Kellison taught me. I steel myself and walk back out. Next thing I know, that joker Dave Morin is wrapping me in a toga. At last, I laugh, while making mental notes about which of these overrated twentysomethings I'm going to fire, in which order.

Dear Owen Tummy

Clearly I still need to set the record straight on a few issues. 1) Chamath Palihapitiya is a disease you get from a bathhouse in the Phillipines. He is not an executive 'whose portfolio waxed and waned with Zuckerberg's favor'. If Mark Zuckerberg wants to have an opinion about anything I will give it to him once we find him.

2) You have suggested that I'm not a fun person and that my Smith and Wesson break action rifle is somehow inappropriate attire for the office. You can ask anyone that has been granted telephone priviledges, Facebook is a fun place to work. The mandatory fun period is 8:45-8:50 AM. I wish you could see the nerf battles we've had!

3) It's clear from your writing that you have no idea what it was like working with the Ben. If he wasn't standing in front of a mirror admiring himself he was sitting in a meeting, admiring himself. We had to install curtains in the conference rooms because of the distraction that reflective surfaces cause that guy. Sure, he's got a supple chest that slowly dips down to a solid ab formation. But I get to work with Mark Zuckerberg.

In conclusion I hope that even your pot-addled brain can see that I am not lying to people that matter. These are just developers. If I shake a tree around here one plummets to the earth cradling his precious iPhone. I work on the kind of media change that only comes around once every hundred years. I've done the math on this. Do you know the odds against another Olympic rowing team composed of twins handing us a perfectly functioning business model. Twins for God's sake!

Sincerely yours,
Fake Sheryl Sandberg