We stole and printed another letter from a CEO to his employees. This time about the Corona Virus crisis.
TO: All employees of _____.
FROM: Dan _____, CEO.
First off, I hope you and your families are safe during this extraordinary time. A lot of us are home right now, and, if you’re me, you’re realizing just how lazy and useless a human being can become if he’s left to his own devices.
When I first started this business, my father said to me, “Son… Here’s my business.” Ever since then, I’ve taken that business and done the best I could for my family. When my daughter needed private dance lessons, I used company money to pay for them. And when my son crashed his Porsche into the orphanage, I paid for the lawsuit to clear his name and to punish the nuns who harbored vagrant children.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve made sacrifices. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying you couldn’t possibly understand my life and that a sacrifice to me is on the level of maybe a thousand sacrifices for you (and I’m being generous, as always).
Drinking every day, eating a lot of ho hos and Little Debbie snack cakes. That’s the norm in my world right now. Also, playing online Russian roulette with people from Russia and wearing a penis clamp from 11:45 a.m. till 3:35 p.m. just so that I still feel alive.
I guess the point of what I’m saying is that if you’re home, you’re worthless, like me. So that means when we start up work again, it’s really only going to be fair if you either work for free for a while, wear penis clamps, or pay me something to keep your job.
Human resources told me today that my “return to work” plan I just outlined is “Illegal” and could “cost me the company” because of “lawsuits” and “national news coverage.” Needless to say, those people are fired, which was difficult, because usually I ask human resources to fire people for me and this time it proved difficult to call them to fire themselves. Believe me, I tried.
What I need to say to you, the worker, is that I care about your well-being. I care about your health. And I care about your safety. But I also care about my money. Probably more than all the stuff I listed before saying that I also care about my money. I take that back. Definitely more. In fact, I don’t even remember what those other things I listed were.
Soon, the country will be re-opening, and so will ______. I know all of you will be standing at my side (at a distance of six feet! Haw Haw!) when we do. Until then, please be ready with your dick measurements in case you take the option of wearing a penis clamp.
Thank you and take care of yourselves,
Dan _____, CEO.
What the super elite are doing during the Corona crisis. I hang out with rich people volume 69, by Darryl Smurten.
If you don’t already know me then it’s for one of two reasons. Number one: you haven’t read my awesome column about how I spend my life around the richest and most superior people on the planet. Or number two: you aren’t good enough to know me, mostly because you hang out at places where everybody has facial hair and sprays themselves with something called “body wash.”
Anyway. The Intergalactic Business Report asked me to write about what the super wealthy are doing during the Corona Virus pandemic, and I said O.K. It also happened to be a perfect assignment for me because for the last month I’ve been isolated with my very rich friend Ruben at his unbelievable estate by the ocean (not saying which one out of respect for anonymity).
Ruben’s also not his actual name, but he asked me to make up an alias for him, because, I guess, Mark is too easy to guess for people who want to know who he really is. So, when the quarantines started and everyone starting holing up in their hovels around the world, I got a call from Ruben, who said, “Hey, why don’t you wait this out at my home on the ocean?”
I’m not going to lie. I had a lot of offers for where to spend this time, so I asked Ruben if there would be servants there as well. He said yes, and he was forcing them to stay in the house with us and not leave. I said that was even better and headed out there immediately.
If you’ve read my column you know I have extremely high standards for servants and staff. I can’t help it. I guess I’m just a perfectionist. I believe that if you’re in a job where rich people tell you what to do then you need to be almost flawless, like a diamond, except worth almost nothing.
So I arrived at Ruben’s house just before all the shit started really happening and he greeted me at the gate. He said that just in case I had the virus I should stay in the North wing of his mansion for two weeks. I grudgingly agreed because I don’t like to be confined to less than twenty-three thousand square feet. The North wing is a mere nineteen thousand. But I was a guest, and I had to suck it up a little and show my decency and respect, which I’m well-known for.
The following is basically how I spent those first two weeks:
7:00 a.m. Wake up and ask where the servants are. Call the kitchen. Call the butler’s alcove. Call Ruben. Where the fuck are they?
7:17 a.m. Ruben tells me (again) that the servants don’t begin work till 8:00 a.m.
7:59 a.m. Call the kitchen. Call the butler’s alcove. Finally someone fucking answers.
8:00-8:19 a.m. Bitch out the butler and any other staff. I ask him to put himself on “speaker” so everyone can hear. I tell them all to disobey their boss’s orders, because he’s just being nice, and start working at 7:00 a.m.
8:34 a.m. I’m served breakfast. Finally. The staff won’t go near me for fear of being touched or something even though I promised I wouldn’t try to have sex with them or anything. They leave a tray outside the door.
8:50 a.m. I wonder how the fuck the servants are going to clean my room.
8:51 -10:41 a.m. I write this column. You’re welcome.
10:42-4:30 p.m. I spend time with my zoom circle jerk group online.
4:31 p.m. I call Ruben and ask for drugs, which he says he doesn’t have. Fucking liar.
4:32 p.m. I call the servants and tell them to bring me drugs. They only have alcohol, they say. Whatever, I tell them. Just bring me a shit load of it.
4:39 p.m. I finally get my alcohol.
4:40-11:55 p.m. I drink, call some of the guys from my masturbation group, work on my dances, perfect at least one of my dances, and read one of my spontaneous plays to the servants over the speaker phone.
11:56 p.m. I realize those fuckers haven’t brought me dinner. I open the door to the North wing and scream down to them. I want fucking Beef Wellington! I’m always in the mood for that late night.
11:58 p.m. I pass out for a while.
Sometime after that the beef wellington arrives.
Anyway, those were my days living in isolation. It sucked for me, but I think it also must have been hard on the servants, who were kind of like my first responders. In a way, they’re heroes. Very ungrateful, disorganized heroes. Who should work on anticipating my needs instead of just reacting to everything.
Once I did my two weeks, I could tell Ruben was in a much better mood than whatever he was in before I guess, because I didn’t actually talk to him a lot other than about the fucking servants and their inability to do what I needed when I needed. When I surfaced from the North wing, he was gone. So were the servants.
Apparently, he left in a helicopter for another one of his homes and left me in charge of his entire estate. I guess that shows the bond we have and the trust he puts in me.
So, as always, I will summarize what I learned about the ultra-wealthy. Here it goes:
1. They are terrible at hiring people. I think I’ve said enough on this.
2. Kind of related to number one, above, but I also think they need to get servants who know how to fucking make beef wellington. It isn’t that hard, I’m imagining.
3. Also, kind of related to numbers one and two, I think they should get some back up servants so that there’s more of a “24-7” presence of people who can do shit for you. You’d think they would have come up with this already, but apparently not.
4. Like vampires or something, there are whole periods of the 24-hour cycle where you can’t find them because they’re “asleep.”
5. If they invite you over to their mansion and say you can have the whole North wing, just remember that the North wing is probably the shittiest wing. I’m staying in the South wing now and sleeping in Ruben’s bed. Everybody in my online circle jerk group agrees it’s way better than the crappy room I had before.
So, I guess thanks for reading this? I’ve done what I was asked and I’ll give you more when I both feel like it and am paid. Till then. Darryl.
Darryl Smurten reports on the mega- and ultra-rich. His up-close insights about how they live provide even common peasants the ability to glimpse, if for a moment, the light of the good life. If you are ultra-rich and don’t know Darryl yet, and would like to invite him to hang out with you, please contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org. Don’t expect him to get back to you right away.
So they closed “non-essential” businesses and now you’re starting to think that after years of threatening to fire people for not working hard enough that all those people are questioning why they were working so hard because now they’re all at home drinking and barely working and nothing’s really changed.
At least you’ve come to the realization that what work really does is give you a place to exert your authority and vast wisdom over people who in an earlier age would have been your vassals and villagers as you presided over them from your castle on a hill. But how do you rule these peasants when the government allows them to hide in their homes, away from you?
As the number one executive coaching resource on the planet, the Intergalactic Business Report offers a special report for business leaders who feel lost right now. Read our eight tips on how you can retain your feeling of superiority and grandeur during these trying times.
1. Use a group of mannequins to simulate all-staff meetings where you are pissed off about something.
Mannequins are humanish enough for you to fantasize about them begin alive but not human enough to actually have sex with (boo!). But they are still perfect subjects for your hour-long tirades about how everyone needs to do a “gut check” and get their “shit together” and “think about whether they really want to be working here” because you’ll “be more than happy to help them find another job” (yeah, right!) if they can’t “cut it.”
2. Take a food “bonus” at the end of each week.
You’re the CEO of the house. You get executive compensation. In our new world, that means food and hand sanitizer and whatever. You take 70% of what’s left each week and put it in your room, away from the others. You earned that. It’s yours.
3. Practice looking down on people by observing your cat.
Watch what she does! Learn how she behaves! She’s the goal. She’s where you need to be.
4. Put that 100-year-old bottle of scotch in the basement, near the litter box.
When the cat comes down, just smile and say, “Sometimes, Frizzles. Sometimes I don’t think anyone in this office understands the vision… Except for you…” Then just start drinking while the cat shits in the box.
5. Conspire with one of your pets to expel household members who aren’t pulling their weight.
Pets are loyal. People aren’t. Recreate your love for secretly screwing over co-workers by having surreptitious meetings with your cat where you whisper about your wife or one of your kids not contributing enough to the family and how they’d better get their shit together soon or they may find themselves on the street.
6. “Fire” family members who don’t “see your vision” by kicking them out of the house.
They’re your family members, sure. But you said from the beginning that you don’t play favorites and that you would always put the good of the family ahead of family members. Even if those family members are family. And the family is stronger if family members who don’t believe in what this family is aren’t in the family anymore.
7. Bring in a new family member who’s younger and more dynamic.
Now that you’ve gotten rid of your dead weight wife/child/parent, have a staff meeting with the remaining family members and your mannequins to discuss how this “isn’t going to change anything.” Then bring in a stripper who will be their new mom.
8. Tell the released family member, by text maybe, that there are no hard feelings and that you’ll be a reference if they need to find another family.
Just because you got rid of your first wife, it doesn’t mean you aren’t there for her. Offer, magnanimously, to help her out by finding her a new family. Granted, times are tough right now, and nobody’s going to let a random person like her into their house, but when this all blows over, there will be plenty of homes that would love to take her and you’ll put in a good word for her.
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