We get all excited about our entrepreneurs in the United States, but our biggest byproduct is the corporate slug. They’re well-schooled at the art of evasion and slippery tactics. Now, thanks to my latest epiphany, they now can literally blend into the woodwork while on the job.
I’ve done my time in the big house. I slurped from the teat of Corporate America for many moons, and I’ll let you in on a little secret: It was a heckuva ride.
I know that now, as an entrepreneur whose paycheck depends on my own perseverance, hard work, and luck. But I do recall those days working for the man quite fondly. Sure, I was shackled to the cubicle, but it all seems worth it now.
There was the assurance of paycheck every month. (Unless you were fired.) The hours of endless meetings were the perfect way to kill a lot of time. And the lack of direction from on high which meant a lack of work for those of us down low.
I didn’t live large, but I didn’t live little. I was in perennial coast mode. At the time, I was naively frustrated that there was little progress and I was being under-utilized. Little did I realize the gift I was being given.
Many of my co-workers did. They were extremely skilled at evading work, responsibility, and contact with the boss.
Thus, my epiphany: A training school for corporate slugs, designed to make them even more covert and camouflaged than ever before. I created a two-week intensive course, taught by master ninjas, special forces military, and my neighbor Al, who is exceptional at sitting around on the couch and doing nothing.
I notified my former cubicle-mates of the school, and they signed up. In droves.
Don’t Be Seen, Heard, or Smelled
My instructors got to work. The ninjas demonstrated how to walk past cubicles without making a sound. The special forces instructed on rappelling out a conference room window. And my neighbor Al revealed how to covertly stream your favorite TV shows while sitting in your cube.
Soon my corporate slugs were becoming so good at evading detection, we weren’t even sure they were in the classroom.
We then took it up another notch, designed corporate camouflage clothes. One jumpsuit was constructed of beige cubicle fabric. Another outfit was made of wood paneling, so you could literally blend into the woodwork.
All this was going so well that I had to expand my company to handle all the new business. I had hired 500 new people to help with the increased demand. And guess what happened.
Not two days after hiring all these people, they suddenly disappeared. I would walk down barren halls at my own corporation, and there wouldn’t be a soul in sight. Yet I could hear their breathing and the thump of their collective heartbeats.
I have not been totally abandoned. I do see them. They come out for their mandated 15-minute break and lunch. But then it’s immediately back to hiding. Why keep your nose to grindstone when it’s so much easier to blend into the woodwork?