Like the teenager it is, Web has begun to flaunt its potential and distance itself from its disenchanted, uptight parents, Desktop Software and Print. While proud of their offspring’s above average intellect, and even a bit envious of its youthful gregariousness, Web’s parents can’t help feeling overshadowed and, therefore, contemptuous of the globe-spanning nightclub Web seems to have designed as its workspace.
Underlying its naive exuberance is Web’s fundamental belief that it can be anything it wants to be, befriend anyone anywhere on earth, engage in creative collaborations of breathtaking scope, openly express its mercurial moods without backlash, conduct a quick search for the sources of genuine wisdom (because it’s feeling lucky), and in a few short years land an absurdly fun job with a six-figure salary and nine weeks of paid vacation.
Web’s parents, while scraping by on five figures, are reminded of their own glory days, which weren’t very glorious because they occurred during a period of economic depression, widespread unemployment, and bad haircuts that are inexplicably back in style. They want Web to thrive, but they can offer their progeny little assistance; their best techniques are obsolete. Mostly, they worry that Web might make the same mistakes they made. So they watch, hold their breath, and hope…
…that Web will do the right thing.