As many of you know, the Meet the Spy video was leaked this weekend. Some of you on the forum have wondered if Valve leaked it on purpose. And until we find the clown who did leak it, the answer to that is yes.

Others of you have started a petition to stop Valve from firing anyone over the leak. Once again, this just goes to show you how valuable customer feedback is to us—we hadn't even thought of doing that, but once you see it there in print, it's a fantastic idea. I've been asking people all morning who was responsible and come up empty. But now that I've started firing people, they can't name names fast enough. So far I've got sixty-seven names in the "suspicious" category, fifteen in "very suspicious", and another forty-three I'd been wanting to fire anyway.

I'll keep you posted as I track down the culprit. Rest assured, though: Until I find the person responsible, I vow that Valve will stop work on all projects.

Valve's head of HR, Kathy, just came to talk to me. I'd been lining up employees in a row against the wall so I could run past and fire them faster.

"You're fired you're fired you're fired you're fired oh hi, Kathy. What's up?"

"I'm a little concerned that you're mistreating your authority." I nodded, then reminded her that we'd talked about her using smaller words.

"We think you've gone mad with power," she said, talking slowly and using her hands. That's when I knew: She was in on it. Best not to take any chances, I thought, as I reached for my firing stick.

I've been working through the staff in alphabetical order. So far I'm up to the L's. I told Marc Laidlaw I had a book in my office I wanted him to see. I didn't tell him the name of that book: Marc Laidlaw, You Are Fired, by Robin Walker.

"Alden, you have three seconds to tell me why you're fired."
"Wait, what? I—"
"You're fired."

"You wanted to see me, Robin?"
"Yes, Greg. What's the difference between you and you're fired?"
"I — what?"
"Clean out your desk, Greg."

"Yeah, Robin?"
"Ah, come in, Matt. How's the family?"
"Oh. Uh, good. What's this ab—"
"Top drawer. How about your little boy? He getting better at the ol' soccer?"
"Football. No, not really."
"Do you think he'd be any good at cleaning out your desk by five?"
"I —"
"Because you're fired."

"Laidlaw, it says here you're a writer. Well, let me tell YOU a story. Once upon a time you were fired. Then you cleaned out your desk by five."

"You wanted to see me, Robin?"
"Eric. I'd like you to clean your desk."
"I — sure, sir."
"Outbyfive."
"Out by...?"
"Why! Oh! Why-Oh-You! Oh-You-Are-Eee! You're Fired!"

I think I've found my man. Valve's staff is now down to two employees: me and our Greek intern Stavros Xanthis. We're sitting in the main board room, staring at each other from across the table. I turned up the thermostat as far as it will go. It's hard to make him out behind the waves of heat coming out of the vents, but I think he looks guilty.

"Marianne, send in someone please. Anyone at all. Oi! Send in someone with one eyebrow! That'd be marvelous."
"Sir, you've fired everyone."
"Already? But it's not even eight o'clock."
"You've outdone yourself, sir."
"Beaut. Alright, make a note that we need to hire 500 employees tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
"Then put me down the day after that for firing all of them."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and get them to bring stuff in tomorrow. Tell them to put it in their desks. Tell them to load their desks right up."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, you're fired."
"Yes, sir."