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Best Seller
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: Adrian, Michigan
Posts: 719
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Corporate America
This is a short story that I began writing this morning simply because I can't do anything productive with my novel until the evening. These are just the first two pages or so; I plan on making it a lot longer with different settings and events in the intervals between each pair of junior director's presentations. This isn't my normal writing style, so I'm just trying something different. Opinions and advice would be helpful.
This meeting took place on Wall Street at an undisclosed time in the mid-1990s
At the far end of an elongated burgundy table stood an overgrown green-tinted melon of a man wearing a oddly shrunk bowler hat atop his rapidly receding pate. His minuscule black mica discs of eyes darted at the smaller figures seated ahead in black suits as they put their heads together in whispered discussion. Above, the photorealistic painting of a money-laden tree offset the industrial grey walls that threatened to encase its inhabitants in an eternal Boggle box of business acumen. The large man twiddled with a figurine of the World Trade Center and impatiently awaited the nigh ideas of the board's finest junior directors.
Behind him, gargantuan black letters on the wall proudly proclaimed "Corporate America". Just in front on the table was a small placard stating the word "Chairman". On the other side of the room, one-way windows displayed thousands of miniature cubicles in which the businessmen eagerly worked themselves into a frenzy of typing and filing. A few of the junior directors were now smugly sipping from their undersized goblets of stale coffee, letting the intrigue of their ideas simmer in the air-conditioned atmosphere.
Finally the digital clocks began to alarm and the time for collaboration of thoughts had passed. A sardonic smile formed itself onto the chairman's lips as he began to address the junior directors. "Gentlemen," he boomed, "you are the finest young minds Corporate America has to offer. It is you whose neurons will carry us into the next millennium. Generations eventually pass on... old geezers like myself-" at this he chuckled- "eventually drift away into their retiree homes in South Florida. The business propositions generated at this meeting could very well change the face of American economics and culture in the next decade. As you know, we are the jock-of-all-trades of the business world- we do everything and encompass everything. I am very eager to see what ideas you have for me today, as one of you will likely have my position someday." With a smirk, he indicated the small placard on the table.
"Why don't you go first?" he said loudly, beckoning towards one of the pairs before putting his right hand in his pocket for a second or two. They wore horn-rimmed glasses and the expression on their face was decidedly that of nerds. Freckles adorned their cheeks. The shorter of the two began emit mechanical sounds that could be interpreted as a thoroughly rehearsed speech.
"We have calculated that by the year 2000 virtually every American household middle-class or above will own a computer," he began, speaking so rapidly that even the chairman's eyebrows were raised. "As you know-"
"Don't assume the American public knows anything, McAfee," the top honcho drawled, admirably recovering from the initial surprise. "That can be a genius businessman's fatal weakness."
"Oh," the young director said, clearly confused. "Anyway, computers are not impregnable. Their security systems can easily be penetrated for the sake of infusing viruses and the like."
"Oh, you mean hacking," the chairman interrupted. "Security systems are getting to the point that will be gone by the time the Montreal Canadiens win their next Stanley Cup- in other words, by the time 2001 rolls around it will be nonexistent. Don't base your ideas on the theory that hackers will remain."
"Hmm." He looked even more puzzled as his friend took over for him.
"Mr. Chairman-" the second one began before the melon-shaped man broke in again.
"Call me Boss," he said playfully.
"Alright- Boss," McAfee's friend said awkwardly. "It is our calculation that as more people own computers the viruses and contaminations will spread and spread, corrupting the American public's software. Naturally, they would want protection from such things- however, if, as you say, the viruses shall disappear by the end of the millennium or so, there'll be no need. What we can then do is infiltrate the computer mainframes and insert new viruses that nobody knows how to weed out except us, the unknown creator. It will cause mass panic- computers will be contaminated! But just after they get out we can begin selling a new program that protects the computer from the viruses that only we know how to destroy. Every single computer owner, bar none, will purchase our program and no longer have any viruses... that is, until we add new ones and update our program so they will have to purchase from us again. We'll make a fortune! It's a foolproof plan!"
The other junior directors began to stare at these two enviously. The strategy seemed perfect; surely their idea would be put to work without any second thought from the chairman. But the top honcho himself was shaking his head and bore a distasteful expression, and he was the ultimate judge of quality.
"Mr. McAfee and Mr. Norton," he sighed resignedly, "You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, but I'm afraid that this is one of the more ridiculous ideas I've ever heard in this room. It's even more asinine than that crazy old movie fanatic proposing that a film dramatizing a tragedy that occurred over 80 years ago would do well at the box office. I told him that people today just don't pay money to see those kinds of films, and I'm telling you that this is not only far-fetched, but that you have overlooked the plague that will infect all computers in about five years. Do you really think anybody will even use a computer once Y2K rolls around? The entire industry will collapse. There's no point in investing into anything involving computers- unless, of course, you are willing to offer that the Y2K bug is merely a hoax." At this he roared in laughter.
"Mr. McAfee and Mr. Norton, quite frankly, I'm appalled that any of our most revered junior directors would come up with such a ludicrous idea," he now said, his eyes widened. "I'm afraid you should begin searching for some other place for your talents. The financial world has no place for idealists who dream that computers will exist well into the next century."
The nerds slumped into their seats and the Chairman turned his eyes over to the next pair of businessmen. "Ah," he remarked, his eyes lighting up. "These men are two of our brightest young stars. Mr. Pool, do you wish to begin?"
"Sure, sir," he said uneasily.
"Boss!"
"Of course. Boss."
"Now, I always forget," the Chairman chirped childishly. "Which of the twins are you? Edwin?"
"John! John Roy!"
"Of course. And I see you are partners with Mr. Bay over there... you two are into the film industry, right?"
"Extremely," said Mr. Bay. "We've been researching the merits of some films over others."
"The film industry's dead," the Chairman spouted confidently. "It will never rake in the big bucks ever again. Now everyone's into the video games and the music- goddamn Sony taking over the entertainment industry. We funded them, remember? We made a fortune." He proudly pointed to one of the portraits on the gray wall, depicting the Chairman himself shaking hands with Sony's president. "Even if they made another Star Wars movie- which they won't, I thought I might dispel some deluded rumors, because Lucas is over the hill and knows he can never direct a money-making film ever again- people wouldn't watch it."
"Well, we'd like to change that," Mr. Bay said. "We think we know how." The Chairman appeared amused but nevertheless sat back in his chair as Mr. Bay continued.
"I am a knowledgeable and talented director. John's a screenwriter; a damn good one, at that. We've been collaborating on a film based on..." He launched into a plot summary, aided by Mr. Pool's occasional input, of his prospective film that entailed the coming Armageddon of an enormous asteroid headed towards Earth and a group of drilling specialists' mission to nuke it from the inside. Bay and Pool then explained their complex theories as to why the increasingly lesser-minded American public, especially teenagers, would go to see it in droves at the theater. It would make millions, tens of millions if Bay and Pool were given a proper budget!
However, nobody had been looking at the pair currently in the spotlight. All eyes were transfixed on the Chairman himself. A thinly veiled smile was cast over his plump features; he appeared nothing less than condescendingly amused.
"So that is your grand theory on the very best way to make a profit?" he asked. They nodded reluctantly.
"Tsk tsk tsk... these kids today!" The Chairman at this moment resembled a loving father vastly disappointed in his child. "Where are all of the good ideas like in old times? Why, in my day... I came up with a wonderful idea myself, I did."
"What was that?" one of the junior directors blurted out.
"You see, another man was sitting in this seat back then," he began. "He assembled us in this very room. A bit slimmer than me... ah, he usually had a fine eye for talent, but I'm afraid that he made a severe error in judgement when it was my turn to come up with an idea. The other ones were brilliant as well... it's quite sad that real maneuvers never come out of these meetings, I could find a few over the years that would be a keeper. Anyway, my time here was in the days of Vietnam and hippies all over town. Everyone else came up with generic and useless ideas like investing wireless phones, or perhaps investing in the rising nightclubs of Miami and the like... not me. I decided that the first thing we needed to do was get rid of the hippies." He went on about his ingenious idea of creating an afro magnet that attracted all of the hippies to a Social Rehabilitation Clinic. Unfortunately, the former Chairman didn't think much of his idea and he was kept at junior director until he could come up with something worthwhile. However, that Chairman had a fatal heart attack just a month later and the young man, still stuck at junior director, was allowed to move up in the ranks and rose to the top from there. By the time he had enough clout to carry out his own project, the hippies were long gone.
Suddenly Bay looked like he had something to say. "What is it, son? Another idea now that I've helped you out?" the Chairman chuckled.
"You see-"
"Don't assume that the American public sees anything, Bay" the Chairman said triumphantly. "That can be a genius businessman's fatal weakness."
"Right," Bay replied. "Anyway, I have another idea before you get rid of me like you canned McAfee and Norton. Edwin and I have recently been discussing a completely different business venture- nothing like the cinema that is dead. There is an small independent company that we would like to buy. It's a revolutionary auction system set up online on which users are able to sell off or bid for any item put up on the site by other users. We can charge a certain percent of each sale- say, if we are charging 2% and one item sells for $500, we make $10 dollars. If 100 sales occur each day at the average of $500 we could make one thousand dollars a day, $365,000 dollars a year, but 100 sales each and every day is only the beginning. In just a year we can get it to the point where thousands of sales are happening each day and we are making hundreds of million dollars It's an idea that can potentially change the face of trading forever. We withheld it because you talked about the Y2K bug, but even in the time before that strikes we can make enough money for it to be worthwhile. After all, it will only cost a few hundred dollars to make. Just one day at our peak absolutely dwarfs that number."
The room grew very still and the air cold. "We even have a name for it," he quickly added. "We take his first initial and my last name and throw them together."
The Director looked very puzzled as there was a long incomprehensible silence. "J. Bay?" he said at last.
"No, no, no," Mr. Bay quickly said. "This is Edwin."
"Ah!" That familiar smile pursed his lips. "Rudimentary, rudimentary... I suppose you think that's a clever coining, don't you? Brave new world." Bay and Pool said nothing. "Rudimentary, rudimentary... it is indeed entertaining to see the optimistic yet inexperienced minds of the young 'uns put to work. Cute, cute... eBay... fitting. A childish name for a childish product."
"Sir, childish-"
"Boss!"
"Boss, childish? This system preys on the buying and selling capitalist mindset of the American public!"
"Nobody's that stupid, Bay," the Chairman chuckled. "Perhaps our top-rated business acumen teaching programs were not up to their usual standards this year... I will be having a word with Mr. Lesko. I was becoming worried when he began spouting theories on withholding money from the government, and now it appears that suspicion was validated. He may be out of a job- perhaps one of you may be Junior Instructor someday." He laughed again. "Scintillating, the mind of a youngling is! Now, what brave soul is next? Who will finally bring a real money-making idea to the table that is actually worth listening to?" A higher level of... of... something could be detected in his voice. Stress? Panic?
All of the other junior directors looked at each other blankly. There was a long period of silence until one of them, just as freckled as McAfee and Norton, got up and began to stutter.
"Well- well, you see, Mr. Chairman-"
"Boss!"
"Well, we all figured that any forward-thinking idea of the next millennium involved computers, as they are the technology of the future and many predict that they will skyrocket in the next few years..." His voice trailed off as he saw the expression adorning the Chairman's features. It was one entrenched in the bowels of displeasure... at least he had the courage to say something, unlike the cowards seated around him.
"Does anybody else have a good idea? Anyone?" The boss was frantic. Once again there was a pause before another junior director stood up tentatively.
"Sir- I mean, Boss?" he chirped. The Chairman stared directly into his eyes with a vibe similar to anger...
"Yes?" the top honcho squealed sardonically, as if he was trying ever so hard to conceal the rage flowing within him.
"Well, we think that there's something involving a small mobile phone network that you may be interested in involving allotting each user a certain amount of minutes per month that may be profitable..."
Somewhere, Donald Trump wept. Alas, the same could be said of the Chairman, who wildly grabbed the device out of his pocket and cried, "You ingrates! You young and naive fools! I was tape-recording you the entire time; Corporate America always relies on the brilliance of its junior directors to decide on their next assignment and then rewards them with nothing. Worldcom? It was a young junior director who came up with the idea to buy it... we made a fortune until we sold it for two billion just last year! But now you have come up with nothing and Corporate America will suffer for it! Damn the future! Damn you all!" At this point the Chairman was inconsolable and began sobbing disturbingly loudly into the table, swiping away the placard with it. However, above the din, a new voice rang out.
"That's it!" The youngest of the bunch jumped out of his seat. "Re-purchase Worldcom! We'll make billions! Billions, Mr. Chairman!"
He did not even bother to correct the young junior director. The Chairman had found the key to success in the next millennium. With the guidance of Corporate America, Worldcom would dominate the global business market of the 21st century. It was to be a surefire success. "My boy!" He leapt forward and kissed him vigorously on the cheek. "My boy! We will make billions together! All in the name of-" he paused for dramatic effect- "Corporate America! We will make them oh, so happy."
"And what about you, Mr. Chairman? I recall when you first gathered us together that you had an idea of your own?"
"Oh, me," the Chairman jovially began. "I'm investing three or four billion in some homes in the southern islands of Indonesia that should begin raking in by early 2005..."
The End
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"I cannot fiddle, but I can make a great state of a small city." -Themistocles
"Conrad transcended all the rules. There have been, perhaps, greater novelists, but I believe that he was incomparably the greatest artist who ever wrote a novel." -H.L. Mencken
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. I like overdescriptive, dense, Conrad-style writing, not this kind of straightforward linear writing. I also never write satirical pieces; I simply wrote this because I was very bored and couldn't add anything to my novella.
