Adieu Jibe! It’s been gnarley to the bone.

Dave Smurthwaite

October 20, 2011

Ten years ago, I walked into a building with one objective in mind: get a job at Jibe Media, LLC.

Jibe, at the time, was located in the oddly shaped attic of Key Bank in Bountiful, UT and, in order to meet my objective, I simply needed to climb 20-some-odd steps, walk into the office, and convince Jibe’s President/CEO/Creative Director/Account Manager, Mark Farr, that I was the perfect fit for his team. Our conversation, while not recorded in the annals of Jibe history, went pretty much as follows:

Me: I’d really like to work here at Jibe.

MF: That would be great. I can’t afford to bring anyone on board right now.

Me: What if I worked for free?

MF: Hmm… Let me get back to you.

While some might jump to question my negotiation skills at this point, I’ll have you know it wasn’t more than a week later I found myself seated in the Jibe offices, working (volunteering is the more proper verb) on my very first project: a web site design that would make my first-grader renounce his lineage if he saw it today.

Over the course of the past ten years, a lot has happened to that newly-married Jibe-struck designer of yore: I actually started getting paid at some point, my wife Marisa and I had four rambunctious boys, the company quadrupled in size and moved downtown, I was knighted chief party planner in the office, implemented Friday Jibe Jogs, forgot someone’s birthday, and was stripped of my party planning responsibilities.

Unfortunately the one thing (the only thing, really) where I fell short at Jibe was in defying the cliché “All good things must come to an end.” Church service and other responsibilities now call, so today is officially my second-to-last day of full-time employment at Jibe. However, before I go, I’d like to take a moment to remind you, employees, clients, and friends of all of the things you’ll miss most (and least) about me. off, what you’ll not miss once Dave has left the building:

  1. Not having Dave in the office. Seriously, who knew when that guy was coming and going. He walked around like he owned the joint (at this point I’ll remind readers I do technically own a very small portion of the place).
  2. His “moods.” There’s nothing like trying to talk to Dave about something he doesn’t want to do. It’s like trying to get a heifer off the road when you’re dying for a slurpee. I’ll let you connect the dots on that one.
  3. His “creative ideas” that we so far out of the box they had to be treated for hypothermia. C’mon Dave, really? Sure, you can try to convince me that a cowboy riding a llama could promote Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, but I’m not gonna bite and I’m definitely not producing it.
  4. His five-toed running shoes. Man those things stink.
  5. His sense of style. I’m surprised he didn’t have to leave sooner… carted off by the fashion police for “Failure to Match Patterns” or “Unwillingness to stop wearing an article of clothing more than three days consecutively.”

Next, what you’ll actually miss once Dave isn’t around:

  1. Countless times during the day when Dave walks up to you with random hair sticking up thanks to his noise-cancelling headphones.
  2. His teenage girlesque head-bobbing from the comfort of his own office chair.
  3. His mad “magic elevator” and “walking down stairs” routine. Man, that guy must have had a second calling in life… as a mime.
  4. His appreciation of fine food when it came to office snacks, Jibe lunches, or the three birthday parties he planned. Face it, you’ll be thinking of him next time Mark offers up Arctic Circle dipped cones as a fine dining option.
  5. His ability to stave off the renaming of any and all Jibe services to coincide with either 1) Mark’s favorite 80’s hits or 2) the unnatural offspring of the term “Jibe” combined with any other word. Yesterday’s “Jibournal” was a new low point in the history of bad Jibwords.

The last thing you won’t miss about Dave: his uncanny ability to go on an on and on without an end in sight (i.e. I should probably wrap this up).

In closing, I’d like to personally thank my Jibe family and friends for all they’ve put up with the past ten years. We’ve laughed together, cried together, shared a mullet, lit microwaves on fire, and shot seemingly naked people holding pit bulls – what more could you really ask for?!

I’d also like to thank Jibe’s close-knit group of clients and vendors for their friendships over the past ten years. Marisa and I have seen a few rough moments as a family, and I was always stunned to see how many of you came to our rescue. Thanks for always being willing to be more than what was expected and giving us the opportunity to do the same. I will forever treasure these relationships, even if you don’t hear from me for another 15 years. I haven’t forgotten you… I just don’t require personal photo shoots or a documentary about teeth-whitening on a regular basis.

Thanks again everyone. It’s been the ride of my life so far. I’ll be contacting you in case the next stage doesn’t pan out as planned. On the off chance I do, just remember that while I might offer to work for free, you’ll be stuck paying me for at least 10 years.