My First Shopify Townhall

There is much to be said about Canada’s largest and most famous tech company. But not enough is said about the work culture it generates. In this account of my first Shopify town hall meeting, I will delve into that culture. I will offer a glimpse into what life is like at an ultra high growth tech company.

For those who don’t know, Shopify, like many companies still trying to hold onto their tech startup roots and elude the impression of hierarchy, holds a town hall event every Friday at its head office in Ottawa. It’s open to any Shopify employee willing to attend. People present things, announcements are made about the health of the company, and its upcoming projects are detailed. It’s a momentous occasion, not only bringing the community together but allowing Shopify employees (known as Shopifolk) to see the company’s creator, Tobias Lutke.

Yes. Every week, in a call back to the company’s early years, Tobias himself delivers Shopify’s most important developments. A famous introvert, Tobias almost never leaves his office except for travel, and is never seen throughout the building except for the 30-odd minutes of the Friday town hall. This makes him a bit of an enigma, even before accounting for his German accent and typical European eccentricities.

Now I, an enlightened millennial with an English degree and the usual faux foibles about working for a company so rooted in capitalism, took a digital marketing internship at Shopify. This past Friday was my first townhall, and it was as exciting as it was memorable. What a great company Shopify is!

To set the scene: Town Hall is delivered on the 8th floor of Shopify’s office at 150 Elgin St. in Ottawa. It’s held in a massive room, which encompasses half the 8th floor, offering a stunning view of the Rideau Canal and the National Art Gallery. The only other areas on the floor of this already enormous building is the kitchen (breakfast and lunch are provided free to all Shopify employees). Several hundred chairs are arranged facing away from the windows at a raised stage with a podium.

At around 3:45 PM this past Friday I got off the elevator to a huge cluster of Shopifolk making their way into the auditorium. It was a sea of polo shirts, sleeve tattoos, and hipster beards. Disproportionately young, white and Asian, you couldn’t paint a better picture of a dynamic tech workforce.

After the security pat down, I lost sight of my team members in the fray and sat down in a chair by myself two thirds of the way back from the stage. I had tried to get myself a drink of beer from one of the taps at the bar (Shopify offers all of its employees unlimited beer and kombucha at a bar next to its cafeteria throughout the day), but to my dismay the bar had been cordoned off. No alcohol allowed at town halls, it seemed.

Yet my excitement was unabated. I was already beginning to feel the intoxication of being surrounded by driven and like minded people, and I began to sense the exhilaration of seeing Tobias — the man himself — in the flesh.

For a moment I wondered if this would be a disappointment. That the speeches would all be filled with buzzwords and virtue signaling about how amazing Shopify is, and the tenor of the event would end up being too corporate.

Several people around me were carrying signs, which confused me. Was this also an AGM? Is that a thing here? I couldn’t see what was written on any of them, but I was too busy gazing around to care. There was so much to take in. I was surrounded by people I semi-recognized, but couldn’t quite place.

A woman sat down next to me. I recognized her as someone who I passed often in the corridors. I didn’t know her name, but I knew that she worked in the Shopify Studios division. She was a bold-looking woman, late 30s, thick hair and a freckled face. She had recently given an afternoon talk about Shopify’s public image. It was steeped in classic white woman jargon.

“Thisissofuckingimportant. We need to approach commerce intersectionally” was all I remember.

She smiled as I caught her eye.

“Are you excited for your first town hall?”

“Yeah, I guess” I said.

“You’re in for quite a treat” she replied. “The first town hall is always the most exciting”.

After the land acknowledgement, the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. A projected Shopify logo appeared on the wall in front of us, and a video profiling a Partner began to play.

As part of its mission to colonize every country’s tech industry, Shopify has web developer Partners all over the world and frequently profiles them in glowing, acceptably diverse video series. I had seen this one before. It featured Helen from Vietnam, who sold web design services to clients all over Asia. Helen had had a difficult life, but then, of course, Shopify had found her and changed her forever.

The film was a beautifully done, 4k production. Reminiscent of Parts Unknown. Over relaxed flyovers of the beaches of Nha Trang and slow pans across a Macbook-filled office space, Helen narrated the work she had done for our company.

As we moved deeper into Helen’s work the camera lingered respectfully on her watering eyes as she reached the conclusion of her tragic life story, cutting away just as she began to cry. Then it shifted to a montage of her working satisfying-ly at her computer in a warmly lit room, bathed in sunlight and commerce. Then with a single, happy child. And finally, in a longer shot, gazing out at the Vietnamese sunset from the top of a mountain next to a small but dignified looking house.

In a final shot, the camera returned to Helen’s original interview space. She looked right into the lens:

“My existence had no real meaning or purpose until I became integrated into the global capitalist system. I was on the verge of spiritual death. Entrepreneurialism emancipated me.”

Wow. I hadn’t remembered that part.

Before I could process the moment any further, the video quickly faded to black. The room erupted into a muted buzz. I heard my Shopify Studios companion next to me let out a little sigh. Like she wanted to say something but chose not to. She had the look of someone who loved to read through her own written work again and again, soaking up satisfaction each time.

But our little dose of catharsis was over. I had had enough poverty porn. I was here to see a rich person.

The speakers boomed, and everyone took on a hushed tone once again. Only it was more excited this time.

Slowly an image began to appear on the screen behind the stage, and I recognized it being from the Shopify Roadshow video. Tobias Lutke driving, stoically, through the streets of downtown Ottawa in his Mercedes. Gazing off into the distance. Into the future perhaps? As the screen faded to black and the room darkened to almost pitch black, a familiar German voice boomed all around us.

<when you haff the passion, when you haff the drive, you know, the sky is the limut>

The woman next to me let out a quick chirp, before burying it.

<I thought, you know, we can do this bettah. We can make a plahtform that works for everyone, not just the big playahs>

Large white letters flashed across the screen as inspiring, movie-trailer-like music came on in the background.

…VISION…

…IMPACT…

…AUTHENTICITY…

…SELF AWARENESS…

…ENGAGEMENT…

<these are the tools that will make Shopify a hundred yee-ah cumpahnee>

And then, before I could even prepare myself, the lights came on again, and out came Tobi. Right up on stage without any warning. Holy shit, there he is! I quickly noticed for the first time that Tobi had a handler, a vaguely South-African-mercenary-looking guy who was standing just offstage.

Everyone cheered loudly.

My eyes flicked back to the CEO. It suddenly occurred to me that despite his near ubiquitousness at the company, almost nobody at Shopify saw him in person besides these special gatherings. Which was odd, because the walls of Shopify offices are adorned with the visage of our grand leader. Portraits of him at varying stages of his life. The famous picture of him sitting at his make shift desk from Shopify’s early days. The massive one in the lobby where he sits on top of a giant pyramid. Not to mention most of our onboarding videos. There was no denying it: Tobi is Shopify and Shopify is Tobi.

Seeing Tobi in person was like seeing a celebrity in real life. When you see them in front of you, you think about how until that moment, when you verified their existence with your own eyes, they could possibly have never been real at all. That the whole time they could have been a virtual person who doesn’t actually exist. A fabrication of film companies or news networks or whatever. A giant conspiracy.

But Tobi is real. By God! Is he ever real! Those bottomless blue eyes. Those sparkling, intimate, Aryan oceans.

Besides his trademark newsboy cap, it’s Tobias’ eyes that everyone talks about when they describe his appearance. There was a purifying hardness to them. These eyes, I thought, that will cleanse the inefficiencies of the retail industry for the good of mankind. What a man this is, I thought. This titan of industry. This demigod! All billionaires are demigods of course, and as I looked upon this lower member of the Tech Pantheon I felt a reverence pass through the people around me as well, employees old and new. What a presence this man has! Though meek in body, you could feel the power Tobias held over us from the moment he appeared.

I had not expected this. Like everyone, I adore and idolize rich people, though in that moment I realized that maybe I should be a little afraid of him. He does control my life, in a way. Not to mention I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. None of us would be.

Then the eyes looked right at me. Yes, they did! I found out later of course that everyone says they do, but for me they really did. Those ocean blues fell upon me, and for a moment the room fell away. Suddenly it was just me and Tobi, alone. I felt all of my fears and insecurities being laid bare before them. That I was afraid of not being hired at the end of my term. That I didn’t really love my girlfriend. That the whole world outside of 150 Elgin scared me. It frightened me with its future and disappointed me with its secularism.

And then he spoke.

“Hello Shopifiyahs” Tobi said. The crowd cheered wildly. Everyone sounded a little breathless, like I realized I was. Maybe we had all been thinking the same thing these last few seconds.

His voice was incredibly loud. But it had a deep, sonorous feel to it. Was he even using a microphone?

“It is a pleasha to see you all again, after this exciting week at owah company”.

“Hello Tobi!” several people around me called back.

“Who heeya is excited about Shopify delivering value to our shareholdahs? Let’s get fired up fohr Shopify!” he boomed, and the crowd cheered again.

“We’ve hahd quite a week on the top floor, and we vant to share everything that’s happened with all off you.”

Several people laughed. Exaggerated laughs, to be sure. I let out a little more air out of my nose.

“To start things off, I want to give you a preview of the numbahs we have coming up. We haff an incredible company with incredible growth, and this past week has been no different. This past week, I’m pleased to announce, we broke another merchant sign up record! Over six thousand new merchants in seven days!”

The crowd boomed. Excited chatter broke out around me. Six thousand! Wow!

“You know what that means? Some of you know what that means! Shopify hass officially grohwn its merchant base to ten times that of our nearest competitor, WooCommerce!”

Suddenly an aggressive voiced call out from behind me.

“Fuck WooCommerce!”

“Yes, haha, yes!” said Tobi, slightly losing his composure. “Yes, Shopify is more powahful than evah!”

Yet again the crowd cheered, again louder than before. Almost abnormally loud at this point.

For a moment I stopped listening. WooCommerce. So everyone here hates them huh? Nice to finally have a good outgroup again.

“Now, I’d like to announce a very special decision I haff made this past week. A very special one indeed.”

Everyone hushed.

“I haff decided, that as a gift for everyone who has worked so hard at Shopify for five yeeyahs, that they are going to be given a one time, extra month block of vacation on top of their regular three weeks!”

A huge cry of surprise and elation rose up from everyone. Four whole weeks extra paid vacation! All at once! Wow!

“Yes! Tobi!” Screamed a woman in the row ahead of me. “Thank you Tobi!”

She was not alone. People all around me were calling up wildly to him. Trying to get his attention. Whole swathes of the crowd were starting to stand up. Some of them were even waving their arms in the air.

But Tobi was unfazed. He looked around casually at the crowd in front of him, smiling in what must be a classic Tobi smile. North Americans don’t smile like that, I thought. That’s a European way to smile. Not smiling with his eyes, but smiling with his mouth because it’s polite to do so under the circumstances.

“I haff many more wunderful things to announce to you, my wunderful employees. Owah mission has progressed forwahd, and we are closer then evah to total dominance over the online retail market space. We haff had an excellent quarta. We have achieved an even higher level of dominance over owah direct competitahs in this space, especially in fiscal year 2018”.

“Yes! Yes!” those around me shouted. “Shopify!”

The room was buzzing intensely, and I realized how much I was enjoying this moment. For once, I hadn’t needed to drink anything after all. I could feel myself soaking up the pheromones of an intense political rally. Like a part of a real mass movement. A bonafide member of an institution making history.

“As off yesterday, in the past twelve month period, we’ve gained over 240,000 new merchants, and grown sixty two percet in the last quartah.”

“Sixty two percent! Holy shit!” yelled an engineer behind me. “I don’t believe it! Do you know what that’s going to do for the stock!?”

“We are now the most powahful tech company in all off Canada. Once we complete owah insertion into the Asian and South American mahkets, Shopify will solidify its position as the thurd highest earning technology company in the Western wurld”

Several people were screaming extremely loudly now. One of the engineers at the end of my row had picked up his chair and was hoisting it above his head.

A voice screeched out in my ear, and I looked beside me to see the Shopify Studios woman waving her arms in the air, tears of triumph and passion streaming down her face. Her makeup was splotched all over her face and was dripping onto the front of her shirt, fed by a salty river of mascara pulsating out of the corners of her eyes.

“Tobi! Over here Tobi!”

“You are all my Shopifolk. Through the ebbs and flows of the global retail mahket, I will protect you from hardship and provide for you heeyah at Shopify, and will fulfill your pension commitmunts even if the global market enters recession in and around fiscal year 2021”

People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices . “Oh my god!” a heavily bearded man next to me yelled.

There was a commotion at the front. One of the employees had tried to rush the stage.

Tobi’s handler flicked his eyes to someone at the back of the room, and suddenly several burly looking security guards wearing tight muscle shirts with enormous green Shopify logos burst out of two doors on opposite ends of the stage. They formed a human chain a few feet in front of Tobi as a huge mass of screaming workers mounted the altar and tried to force their way towards him. The guards linked up their arms and didn’t cede an inch, holding firm like a phalanx in the face of a horde of rapid employees.

“I just want to touch him!” one of the employees in the morass sobbed. “I just want to touch Tobi!”

But our fearless leader stood unabated by the scene playing out in front of him, his message unfinished.

“And finally, our revenue for fiscal year 2018 was ovah one billion dollahs. We have achieved a growth of ovah fifty percent year-ovah-year.”

“Ohmygod! Fifty percent year-over-year growth!” I heard a blue haired woman scream at the man next to her. “That’s unprecedented! That will make us one of the largest tech companies in the OECD!”

I looked around in a haze. I felt like I was drunk. Selfish thoughts of happiness and intense resentment were bubbling up from deep inside, yearning to screech out and join the rest wafting over the crowd. But no one would hear them. Even if I yelled them out.

And so they continued. And in each passing moment of exquisite release they reached depths ever more primal and pure. After so many years in this stifled 2010s world, I once again felt my lust for social gratification. My desire for a neoliberal paradise. My love for America. My hatred of poor people. Tobi — this man — had released these thoughts. What a gift this was.

“And with thaht,” Tobi then said, “I must leave you for anothah week”. And he turned to leave.

Pandemonium reigned. Shopfolk all around me were jumping up and down or standing on their chairs, or trying to run to the front of the room where the stage was. Everyone was screaming at the top of their lungs about year-over-year revenue figures and how we owed it all to Tobi. Most of the room had entered a violent trance, unthinking of anything except getting as close as they possibly could to Shopify’s maverick creator.

Then, seemingly in a brief moment of acknowledgement of his rabid underlings, Tobi paused, and threw his newsboy hat into the screaming crowd. Everyone within twenty feet of where it landed grabbed for it ravenously, and a dogpile of bodies and chairs soon formed. The employee who caught it was instantly engulfed by a mass of his peers and he tried to fight them off with punches and kicks. Eventually a hand emerged from the pile, grasping the ruffled hat with all its might.

“We owe it all to you Tobi!” yelled a sobbing programmer as he rushed past me to enter the fray. “My life is nothing without you!”

“Push ’em back push ’em back! No one touches Tobi!” the handler roared as he body slammed a data engineer who had broken through the wall and tried to hug his client. More employees joined the fray, and a joyful mass of arms reached past the guards in a bid to bless themselves with Tobi’s touch as he left.

More security guards swooped in, forming a tight cordon around the CEO as he drifted slowly back towards the elevators. He was completely uninterested by the chaos going on around him.

In the tumult, I looked behind me, and saw one of the signs an employee had brought. My eyes widened as I looked upon the gaggle of team members trying to hoist up their friend as she held up the sign as high as she could.

“I WOULD DIE FOR YOU” it belted out at me.

At Tobias’ exit, his employees, deprived of a target of admiration, broke out into a spontaneous chant. All around me — of those who hadn’t already passed out — everyone started screaming the company’s name in a final, triumphant bout of mindless admiration.

With the loss of our leader, all remnants of civilization finally left our bodies, and we became our true, untethered selves. Finally free to indulge in pure ideology.

“SHOPIFY SHOPIFY SHOPIFY!”

“SHOPIFY SHOPIFY SHOPIFY!”

In between each call I could hear frantic pants and grasps, as the workers tried to gather as much air inside their diaphragms as they could before belting it out again. People to my left and right were vacillating between screaming into the air and gasping to the point of passing out.

“SHOPIFYSHOPIFYSHOPIFYSHOPIFYSHOPIFY!”

Terror possessed me. I brought my hands to my ears and curled up beneath my seat. The people around me were no longer my coworkers, they had revealed themselves as acolytes in the cult of Shopify. As I listened to them through my fingers, in my hysteria I felt sure they were trying to summon the Invisible Hand of the Market itself.

As the ritual continued, I was afraid I too would be drawn into it, helpless against the pull of wealth and progress. Slowly acceptance of that fact began to creep in, even as I continued to lie balled up beneath my seat, hands to my ears.

I lay, wrapped in a horrified paralysis, enveloped by the chant.

But slowly, before I could determine whether it had all been a hallucination, I realized that the noise was dying down. Everyone had finally exhausted themselves. Perhaps the spirit of FDR had descended from heaven to save us, and the Invisible Hand did not breach into our world.

There was an awkward moment as each person descended from their trance and looked around at the mess of chairs and passed out coworkers littered around them. From their faces it was as if none of them could believe what had just happened, and were bewildered by what they had just done. My manager looked around sheepishly and saw me through the crowd, his shirt coated in sweat. He motioned towards the exit, and we joined the line of people silently making their way to the elevators.

As we entered the hallway we were suddenly greeted by a wave of paramedics who rushed into the room to treat the employees who couldn’t make it to the door or were no longer conscious. I looked upon the gauntlet of medics lining the hallway, handing out bandages and bottles of water at the dazed employees walking by them. It was like we were soldiers completing the Mogadishu Mile.

My manager looked at me. “Just another day at Shopify!”