Where I used to work, we had a daily ritual LAN party. We would be out in user land working on some random problem when the scratchy signal would come across the walkie-talkies: the hunt had begun.
Hasty excuses were given to the users as we ducked back to our offices, tripped off the lights, fumbled our passwords into our screensavers and started Quake. A few minutes of searching the local network and the server was found. Look at that! The server is running from the Network Manager's machine . . . again. No wonder that no one complains about the load.
Twenty seconds seem an eternity as you hear screams of success already coming from down the hall. I wonder what they think of the noise in the open lab? Come on. Come on. This is taking forever. Finally connected!
Hmm. Fifteen players. So-and-so must be out sick today. Call them at home. Frag the boss. Damn that felt good. Dive for the rocket launcher. Boom! Boom! Get fragged by an office mate. Frag them back. New players join . . . fresh meat. Hmm. So-and-so wasn't sick enough to stay in bed. No big surprise.
Get fragged by the boss. Damn, he's good! How much does he play?
Odd, that's a new handle. We must have a new employee. Introductions with a nail gun!
Boom! Gak! Frag! The afternoon disappears into a flurry of pixellated blood.
We never had problems with employee morale until they made us stop.