Youth Movement

Furdyk is frustrated by what he feels is the irrelevance of much of what gets taught. "KidsNRG was perfect for me," he says of the internship program where he and Corriero met. "I could apply what I was learning directly to an actual project that had substance. I wasn't just doing some equation that 50 million kids all over the world have solved from the same textbook every year."

Furdyk believes that universities should be run like businesses, thereby forcing innovation. He isn't the first person to make such an argument, but he might be the only one who's making it without ever having attended a university. As he hastily points out, however, "I sat in on a lot of Jen's classes."

Furdyk and Corriero consider their efforts to be on behalf of teenagers everywhere, from whom they have received hundreds of emails asking how they got where they are. TakingITGlobal is, in part, a response to those emails -- a clear, concrete way for teens to get involved. But Furdyk and Corriero also hope to touch the lives of young people with whom they don't have direct contact. "We don't necessarily want to bring every person in the world into our physical centers," Corriero says. "We want to just set an example -- to show that you have to realize what your needs are, what fulfills you, and how to pursue it. People need to depend on themselves for change. You don't like something? Then have the courage to say and do something, because that's what creates a movement."

It's a Family Affair

As Furdyk and Corriero gear up to change the world, their busy schedules beg an important question: When do they just get to be kids? The surprising answer is, more often than you'd think. In fact, if anything, they sometimes seem a little young for their ages. Upon returning from a trip and encountering Tammy Morrison in the Microsoft cafeteria, Corriero leaps into her boss's arms to hug her. Corriero's office features lots of stuffed animals, multicolored plastic rings, and wooden blocks. (She seems not to see any irony in her fondness for children's toys. As she explained about a purple plastic mailbox with a smiley face on the outside and crayons stored inside, "I can write letters to people as if I'm young.")

And to hear Furdyk and Corriero's accounts of their business travels, most of which have centered around the focus groups that they've led, is to be both amused and alarmed by what the digital economy has wrought. They liked the Crowne Plaza in New York, and they really liked the W Los Angeles hotel. Corriero admired both the W's "huge, plush" beds and its high-speed Internet access. The Radisson in Cleveland, however, "sucked," according to Furdyk, who jokes, "The pillows were, like, filled with wood chips." They may or may not be going to Portugal, they may or may not be going to Germany, they usually fly first class (thanks to their free upgrades), and on a recent trip back from New York, Furdyk forgot his luggage on the plane. But then he found it again, and everything turned out okay.

Many of the pair's experiences have a caperlike quality. There's the time when they attended the "Technology With Curves" conference in Ottawa, meant to foster female interest in technology. Corriero was speaking at the event, and Furdyk accompanied her -- not realizing that he'd be one of only two males present out of hundreds of attendees, most of whom were 13-year-old girls. "Every head in the room turned to look at me," Furdyk says. "I was like, Uh..."

Then there was the time -- Corriero warns that this is "the stupidest story" -- when Corriero was getting her legs waxed, again accompanied by Furdyk, who apparently had not yet learned his lesson. First, Furdyk was merely waiting for Corriero; the next thing he knew, he had been whisked by salon employees into a room with a tanning bed. "They gave me, like, this little tiny thing of oil," Furdyk says. "And I'm like, am I supposed to take all of my clothes off? Do I wear something? All of a sudden, the tanning light goes on." Finally, there's the time when the pair found themselves, on their first visit out to Microsoft, wandering the mean streets of Seattle. "There were all of these sex bars," Corriero says. "We were like, what the hell? We were scared for our lives." Furdyk adds, "We just wanted to eat dinner."

There is something endearing about Furdyk and Corriero's energy and enthusiasm. But there is also something oddly indiscriminate about that enthusiasm. When a visitor -- that is, a Fast Company writer -- goes to the house that they are renting outside Redmond, a frenzied show-and-tell ensues. Among the items that they proffer for inspection are a note from a neighbor asking them if they would try to keep their trash better sealed (both Furdyk and Corriero point out the note separately); Cookie Crisp, Furdyk's cereal of choice ("Mike is a cereal monster," Corriero explains); a program from the Broadway musical Swing! ("It was almost pornographic," Furdyk says. "It didn't really have any content -- just senseless dancing. But I guess that's what a Broadway show is"); a letter from Corriero's aunt, which begins, "Dear Porcelain Doll, We are very proud of you.... "; and Furdyk's electric razor ("It's the coolest shaver in the world," he says. "It's waterproof. And it has, like, gel in it").