Slithershanks fidgeted with his core competency, his knowledge base looking thoroughly agitated. His Seven Habits (of highly successful idiots) were sweating profusely. His mission statement was looking suspiciously emaciated. He couldn’t develop Leadership Vision without squinting and having to put on sunglasses.
Something was clearly wrong. This may well be a case of drugs in the sport of management.
“Anything up, Slither?” asked Dolly Riseranks, looking hopeful.
“I think I may have chosen the wrong performance enhancing drugs.”
“You mean the ones where you don’t perform at all? Because you suddenly believe you have turned into a performing seal masquerading as a three legged elephant with a body image problem? Or perhaps a lump of seaweed, you can’t be sure?”
“Don’t know, Dol. But I am starting to think that this is not worth the end of year bonus. After all, I could die from taking these drugs and that would ruin my entire day.”
“But perhaps not mine. So what did you take?”
“Well, I took anabolic steroids in order to get more of a helicopter view.”
“Pity they didn’t throw you out of one. What else?”
“Cortisone, three MBA courses, some testosterone and a personal motivation course in the Bahamas.”
“Sounds dangerous. I think you should consider double or nothing.”
“But what if I expired horribly on the job, shocking my employees with the severity of my appalling demise? It could set my career back weeks, or even months.”
“Well, look on the bright side. At that stage you wouldn’t care at all. And the end of year bonus will be of absolutely no use to you. You only die once, Slither. I think you should really aim to be a winner, the Lance Armstrong of management. Just go for it. It’s all about results, after all. Nothing else matters.”
