The best possible scenario for an aspiring Z.E.O. is to be at a company with low morale, weak performance, and (most importantly) a C.E.O. who is ineffective and disliked. If this is where you find yourself, then thank your lucky stars and get ready to take the old bastard out.
But things may well be more difficult for you. Your company may be profitable and successful. The C.E.O. may be affable, competent, and well liked. The employees may be contented and pleased.
If this is where you find yourself, do not despair. Many coups have toppled prosperous regimes, and many competent leaders have been unseated by those even more competent. Plus, you have zombies.
Above any general sense you may have of your company’s condition, you can test the allegiance of employees to the current leadership in many ways. Some suggested steps include:
Putting a life-size cutout of the current C.E.O. in the employee lounge. If, in a few days, it is covered with gum and has been used as a dartboard, you are in good shape. If it has been carefully maintained and/or decorated like a shrine, you may have problems.
Starting a rumor that the current C.E.O. is planning to leave his or her post. Is this rumor met with relief, excitement, and joy, or is it met with dread, resentment, and anger?
Starting a “Party Planning Committee” for the C.E.O.’s next birthday. Put a sign-up sheet in the cafeteria. If you get more than a few signatures by the end of the week, you may be in trouble. (Note who does sign up so they can be zombified ASAP.)
If your coworkers are already unhappy and ready for a change in leadership, great. You can skip ahead to the next section. If, however, your coworkers are pleased with the current leadership, then you need to foment dissent. This will prepare your zombie troops for “battle.”
The first step is to blame people in power for things above and beyond their control. This has been the tactic of those wishing to cultivate aggression in a populace since the beginning of time. You see, there are two great truths of life (which all zombies know):
1. Life sucks most of the time.
2. It sucks for no reason.
Most people are willing to openly agree with the former statement (based on all the suckiness they endure daily), but many are skittish about admitting the latter. They get all: “If life sucks for no reason, then aren’t we just afloat in a meaningless, godless netherworld where zombies might rise from the dead at any moment and eat our flesh?” (It’s like, doye! Of course we are.) But because people don’t like the idea that life sucks for no reason, they’re always looking for an explanation of why it sucks. A scapegoat. A culpable party or parties. A cause for all the suckage.
That is where salespeople come in.
In ancient times (or in today’s Third World and Middle Eastern countries), when a king wanted his subjects to rise up and make war against a neighbor, he made sure to emphasize that the kingdom he wanted to attack was the source of everything bad in his subjects’ lives. Even if the connections were tenuous or made no sense, the king repeated them until they started sounding true.
Why is it so crowded? Because that neighboring nation stole all of our land a long time ago. That’s why it has always sucked here. They’re holding on to space that is historically ours! We need it to grow crops and move around and shit. They stole it . . . so we should take it back.
Why am I so sick all the time? Because immigrants from that other country are taxing our medical system so you can’t get adequate care. If that other country doesn’t do something about its surplus population . . . then maybe we should do it for them.
Why can’t I get my shitty novel published/unwatchable film distributed/terrible play produced/poorly rendered artwork exhibited? Why? Because of our neighbors! They stole our indigenous culture and imported their own. They snuck in and installed themselves in top positions at our media companies—so when your novel/film/play/painting gets rejected or panned, it’s not because you’re terrible . . . it’s because you’re not like them.
It sounds crazy, I know. But this sort of thing has worked for all of recorded history. (Also, don’t worry that you won’t actually be able to improve people’s lives when you do take power. History also shows that that never happens, but for some reason nobody ever complains.)
Your task, going forward, is sowing these seeds of dissent in a business context. In your case, the “oppressor” is not a neighboring regime, but a dictatorial C.E.O. who needs to be overthrown. Even if the current head of your company is talented, compassionate, and charismatic, consider using variants of the following to create an atmosphere in which you can urge the employees to help you unseat him or her:
Why don’t I make more money? “I hear the current C.E.O. is keeping base salaries low as part of an incentive-based compensation plan that only benefits top-level executives. We’ll always be screwed as long as they keep running things this way. . . .”
Why are our workspaces and facilities so shabby and dreary? “Who knows? But I hear that they just installed a solid-gold bidet in the C.E.O.’s washroom. Kinda makes you think, dunnit?”
Why can’t I ever seem to get a promotion? “I’m surprised by that, too. You’re clearly a handsome genius who is destined to be a part of our next generation of leaders. Maybe it has something to do with the current C.E.O.’s policy of only promoting his friends, family, and fellow university alumni.”
Be creative with these talking points, and tailor them to your own work situation. Find a way to tie the problems and foibles at your own office back to the current management. It’s easier than you think, once you get started.
If you do your job effectively, you won’t need to (and, indeed, shouldn’t explicitly) suggest that a new, more effective C.E.O. is what’s required to correct the problems besetting your office. It will be all the more effective if you allow your coworkers to come to this conclusion themselves. And, even if they don’t, when you “appear” (looking like a new C.E.O., astride your zombie army) it will suddenly “make sense” to them that this is what’s required.
Understand this: You must position yourself as “the guy/gal who’s here to solve the problem” in order to win the approval of your company’s employees when you take power. Obviously, you’re not going to appear reluctant, or as if you were drafted into becoming the next C.E.O. (Z.E.O.). However, you must also act in such a way that it appears employees’ problems and grievances would be addressed if you took power. Nobody’s going to say you’re acting selflessly, but people may say something like: “Yeah, it looks like he is staging some kind of coup, but at least he’s trying to make it better around here.”
It is this gradual betterment that will be the key to your assumption of the company’s top spot being acknowledged as legitimate. You don’t have to have a plan or platform to solve every problem (that would look weird and suspicious). You just need to appear to be a step in the right direction.
Month One
It is in this first full month of the third quarter that you must truly set things in motion and begin your zombielike assault on the corridors of power. The time is now.
So far, you have zombified yourself, “bitten” other employees to zombify them, and taught them in turn to bite others. And in the first week of this quarter, you have ensured that your zombie coup will be recognized after it takes you into a position of power. You have also sown dissent (if workers at your company were not already dissenting on their own)—a key step in any successful move on a base of power.
Now you’re ready to stage your zombie-corporate takeover. (Deep breath. Here we go. . . . )
Step one: Disobedience
Sometimes the things we do are less important than the things we don’t do. And one thing zombies don’t do well is obey. Not supervisors. Not C.E.O.s. Not soldiers with flamethrowers and machine guns. The zombie’s natural inclination toward disobedience will serve you well as you get things going.
The 10 percent (or more) of the workforce that you have zombified will already have some command of
disobedience. Since zombification, they will have been “disobeying” things like company dress codes and HR directives to “be pleasant” to other coworkers. Now, however, you must take your zombie minions to an entirely new and dramatic level.
We know whom zombies disobey (practically everyone) but whom do zombies obey?
The answer is: Their creator.
Whether a Haitian voodoo witch doctor or a medieval wizard dabbling in the black arts, the only dude who’s even got a shot at controlling these fuckers is going to be the one who made them in the first place.
And that’s you.
Starting here, in the third quarter, your “zombified” employees must be instructed to obey you—and only you—going forward.
Certainly, the zombie employees should keep working under their respective supervisors. (That is vital to the continued success of the corporation you hope to inherit.) However, they should only work at your say-so, when you say so, on projects that you deem important. The key is to demonstrate your control of the zombie employees to the rest of the company.
Stress to your zombie followers that they don’t need to be confrontational with their regular, nonzombie supervisors. After all, zombies aren’t confrontational about rules, just disobedient. When a frustrated police officer yells at a zombie: “Turn around and put your hands on your head,” or “Don’t come any closer,” or “Stop eating that guy’s brain,” the zombie doesn’t stop to argue with the officer. He doesn’t even stop to acknowledge the question. He just keeps on doing what he wants to do. Instruct your own zombie followers to mimic this behavior.
When nonzombie supervisors give them tasks to complete and meetings to attend, your zombie followers should nod placidly and smile. They should not argue or verbally refuse when instructions are given. Afterward, however, they should only perform the tasks that you have approved for them, and only attend meetings that you—as their true master—have okayed for them to attend. Again, the point here is not for your zombie minions to “not do any work.” Rather, it is for them to do “zombie work only.”
And, of course, all their work should be done in a zombie’s slow, methodical, yet superior style.
Step Two: Accountability
As your zombie workforce implements its policy of disobedience, ripples of its effects will slowly reach up the chain of command. Be patient, and let this happen gradually.
For the first few days (or even the first full week), nonzombie managers and supervisors may simply think that some of their employees are having an off week. They’ll wonder if maybe morale is just low. (Did we forget someone’s birthday? Did I accidentally insult one of my employees somehow? Has a local sports team lost a championship?) Human Resources may be called on to intervene with team-building exercises or employee satisfaction surveys. Supervisors may try one-on-one lunches with their staffs. Motivational speakers may be brought in to explain why the fact of their being born without legs should make office workers feel like “They can do anything!” (These efforts will, of course, be fruitless.)
As managers throughout the company begin to collectively realize that many of their employees are behaving differently, they will also notice that productivity and quality are coincidentally up. It may take them a while to correlate these two phenomena (we are talking about managers, here), and when they do, they will not know how to react. It is your job to step in and “help” them.
As it becomes clear, corporation-wide, that something is “up” with certain employees, you should let it drop that you might know something about it. Be subtle. Don’t send out a company-wide e-mail announcing your dominion over an army of the undead. Instead, start a rumor. Leave something on the copier about it that can be traced back to you. Interested parties will eventually come calling. When they do, your goal is to sign up as many managers as possible.
Don’t look desperate—even if that’s how you’re feeling. Don’t act like you need them. Instead, when a pustlegutted mid-level manager nervously lopes into your office to ask about these “zombie” workers, you just tell him how it’s going to be. Make clear that things are already in motion. This new zombie way of doing things is going to be the model going forward. Pretty soon (sooner than later) it’s going to “infect” the entire corporation. Tell the mid-level manager that he can be a part of it if he wants to, but nobody’s going to force him. He doesn’t have to make the change now. The change is, however, inevitable. There’s no question that it’s coming. The only real question at this point is: Does he want to be one of the people who joined voluntarily? (When he had the chance to be on your good side . . . ?)
Depending upon the effectiveness of your salesmanship, you can expect to recruit and “zombify” between 50 and 75 percent of the curious parties who come to you. Most of those who decline will go peacefully. Some will have to think over what you’ve said. Some will think you’re a nut. Others still will see you for what you truly are—the progenitor of a dangerous virus that is spreading quickly and could be lethal to the current management structure of the company. Those in this latter category—if they are loyal to the current C.E.O.—may eventually go to the board of directors and alert them of your sedition. When this happens, it’s time to make your pitch.
Step Three: Making the Pitch
You knew this day would come. In fact, you’ve been looking forward to it.
By the time the board of directors (or other elite body) at your company hears more than one report of a zombie worker infection, they’re going to want to come talk to you about it. You should welcome this interaction. After all, it is a necessary step for your rise to Z.E.O. However, you must also handle it very carefully.
Likely, your visitors from the top will begin with a list of charges, of which (let’s be honest) you are 100 percent guilty. The charges are likely to include:
• Subverting direct orders from supervisors.
• Failing to complete work assignments on time, and encouraging others to do likewise.
• Completing employee directives only as you see fit.
• Failing to attend mandatory meetings and performance reviews.
• Failure to complete almost all paperwork sent to your office.
• Encouraging other employees to become “followers” and adopt your idiosyncratic workplace standards.
• Something about zombies . . . or something.
When the huffing, furious chairman of the board is through delivering this litany of transgressions—vibrating with anger as he waits for your response—prepare to dispel him by using two of the most magical words in the business lexicon: “Yes, and . . .”
Stare down that overblown gasbag of a corporate chairman with confidence. Every one of his charges is accurate and true. There may even be some things that he’s left out. But use the magical phrase “Yes, and . . . ” and watch his mind begin to change. Sell him on all the positive aspects of all that you have done, and hint at all that you are prepared to do.
Say, “Yes, and . . .”:
• Employee productivity, among myself and these “selected” employees, is up more than 50 percent. Overall productivity is up 15 percent corporation-wide.
• Employee job satisfaction and morale are increased.
• Product quality has steadily risen in direct proportion to the number of “selected” employees who have adopted my “new standards” for quality work.
• While attendance at some nonessential functions (team-building exercises, all-employee meetings, corporate retreats) is down, attendance at meetings to vital business projects is perfect.
• The recent uptick in corporate profits directly correlates with employees trying out these new “workplace practices.”
• And anyhow, zombies rule, you bloated old gasbag! (Optional.)
While this takes a moment to sink in, hit him with some questions that are easier for him to answer. (Also, if the rest of the board is around, invite them in to your cube/office. If you have been summoned to them, so much the b
etter. You want as wide an audience as possible for this.)
Ask the chairman questions like:
• “You do like quality work, don’t you?”
• “The goal here is to increase productivity and profits, right? I mean, that’s your job, right?”
• “It is a good thing, isn’t it, when employees learn valuable workplace skills with no additional investment in our already-bloated training budget?”
• “If there was something I could do that would increase bottom-line profitability, employee-satisfaction, and work quality, at no cost, you’d want me to do it, wouldn’t you?”
Get him saying “Well . . . yes,” and, “I suppose theoretically . . .” as much as you can. Give him the old razzle-dazzle. Don’t let him stand back and look at the big picture. Don’t let him reflect upon the unprecedented magnitude of the changes you are proposing. No. Keep him focused. Keep him looking at specifics. You want him saying “yes” as much as possible in front of the other chairmen.
Do this until the very moment you are excused or dismissed.
Though you might be tempted, in this first moment of confrontation, to sell the board on complete corporation-wide zombification, you need to hold back a little. Soon enough, the idea will begin to bounce around inside their heads like a pinball. They are a committee. By the very virtue of who they are, they decide nothing quickly. But the results you have shown them are undeniable.
“Gee, we are supposed to increase profitability . . . ,” one might begin by saying.
“The shareholders want any action that increases their return,” another will point out.
“It’s not like this guy’s doing anything that violates Sarbanes-Oxley, or is, you know, actually unethical,” yet another might say.
“What would it hurt to let him continue a while longer?” one will finally posit. “After all, if it starts to go poorly for any reason, we can just shut it down and fire the guy.”
“Ooh, ooh,” another will suddenly declaim, “and if it does go well, we can say it was our idea and take all the credit.”
The Ultimate Book of Zombie Warfare and Survival Page 11
