Here comes Kari Cottontail, hoppin' down the ARVO trail
Years later, like the aftershocks of an almighty earthquake, the mere mention of HER name sends shell-shocked FutureBranders straight to the funny farm. Make it stop! Make it stop! Make HER stop!
HER resume reads like Mike Tyson’s punishing prescription for employee pain…
Exelon…UPPER CUT!!
Adient…BODY BLOW!!
ViaSat…KIDNEY PUNCH!!
American Airlines…KICK TO THE NUTS!! KICK TO THE NUTS!! KICK TO THE NUTS!!
Pitney Bowes…CRUSH THEIR SOULS AND EXTINGUISH THEIR SPIRIT!!
In corners of the earth near and far, like war torn veterans adjusting to civilian life, each survivor copes with Kari PTSD in their own fragile way…
Daniels screams out in the night…Sie ist eine Teufelsfrau!
“Knock, knock. Nice to meet you, Daniel. I’m just a shy, demure strategist here to say you won’t have any trouble from me. The last thing I’d ever do is question your leadership.”
Julie Peters and Amanda K. drink. They drink a lot.
“Hey ladies, change this slide, this slide, this slide, that slide, this slide and that slide. Go ahead and cancel your weekend plans. Break up with your boyfriends. And say goodbye to your families.”
Doug smash! Doug smash!
“Here’s my notes on how to make your design work more strategic.”
Lindsey, Tracey and Anuschka shiver together in the corner.
“How many check-ins do we have on the calendar…only seven per day?? That’s not nearly enough. We need at least three every hour. Go ahead and ask Holmfridur for more bodies, err, I mean resources.”
Sven changes his catchphrase.
“Helloooo.”
“Sven, I need to cry in your office while complaining about Marcus, Lloyd, Doug and Darren.”
“Goodbyyyyeeee.”
Jim slumps back into his chair.
“Hey Big Man, I know it’s 4:59 on a summer Friday and you’re probably headed to your shore house for the weekend, but I need to bend your ear on all the ways I’ve been wronged.”
The sommelier at the Four Season in Dallas does his physical therapy, hoping to one day gain feeling back in his carpal tunnel ravaged wrist.
“Hello room service, I’m going to need another midnight delivery of chardonnay.”
Beth yells. But that might be unrelated.
The rest of us walking wounded have flashbacks while watching “Tiger King” on Netflix.
The resemblance is remarkable. Carole Baskin is Kari Blanchard. Kari Blanchard is Carole Baskin. But while Kari never killed her husband and fed him to the tigers, she has been known to feed fellow FutureBranders to the meat grinder.
Then one day new British management arrived.
“Don’t worry, mates, we’re not here to fire you (not true) or fundamentally fuck up all that you’ve built (also not true). It’ll be like we’re not even here (if only that were true). Our door is always open, come on in, except when cricket is on the telly. Is there anything we can fix to make your lives and our profitability better?”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Kari.”
“Bloody bollocks, what if we just promised you better snacks?”
“We love snacks, but we love our sanity more.”
“What if we regaled her with charming tales from our prep school days?”
“She’ll eat you alive.”
“What if we sacked everyone else but kept her, would that solve the problem?”
“That’ll only make it worse.”
“What if we banished her to the West Coast, that should do the trick, right?”
“Ask Amanda G. how that’s working out.”
“What if we told you we were going to take care of it, but never actually do anything?”
“That’s called speaking out of both sides of your mouth.”
“Bangers and mash, that’s our preferred leadership style!”
“Listen mates, we’ll level with you. She’s not going anywhere. She has pictures of Patrick Smith. Cheeky, cheeky pictures of the man.”
“Can’t you report that to IPG?”
“Who do you think sold her the pictures!? We were running a penny arcade in East London last year. Now look at us, we’re the President of North America! If you thought she was bad, just wait for what we have in store.”