It’s just another Casual Monday at the beginning of December for the Best Company Ever, and rather than prepare for what could become a hellish year-end, Chief Awesome Officer Chris Condon has decided to enjoy his past strokes of genius (like this) and kick back and open the financial papers. You never know when BCE might make headlines. Oh crap, what’s this?
“BCE sells stakes in Bell Globemedia to Torstar, nets $1.3B”
Now I could read the article only to find they’re talking about a different company altogether, but hey, I’m Awesome and I don’t have time for details. CAOs rarely do. But what I do know is that I just managed to sell a company I didn’t even know BCE had for a cool $1.3 billion dollars. Two words: Stupid Canadians.
Selling nothing for something can really rock the perspective of an executive with an itching to use the newfound funds for personal Christmas shopping. Many CEOs would spend this virtual blank check on luxuries – yachts, jets, struggling MLB franchises. But BCE knows better than that. The Best Company Ever will not get use their riches for personal gain. Duke Cunningham has taught us to be wise in the ways of the corporate expense report.
However, we do have a duty to use the money to improve our company (Is it possible to improve upon the Best?) And so, we’re going to do a little damage control. The CAO knows better, but his employees may not. In case we get into such a spot where the government pulls a shock and audit, we’re going to need some in-house legal counsel. And BCE Chapter 8.
The legal department will be staffed entirely by ninjas.
When it comes to Corporate America, the number one legal service attorneys can provide to companies are advice and direction on how to handle lawsuits. A lawsuit often arises when another party feels they have been wronged by the company in some fashion. 9 times out of 10, the company wishes that this headache would just go away. Regular lawyers will drag the proceedings out with paperwork to discourage to plaintiff from continuing with their grievance. Ninja lawyers, as directed by their professensei, Master Tetsu, prefer the filing known as “Plaintiff Vanish.” Yeah, that’s way more effective.
One of the greatest talents a ninja lawyer possesses in natural speed. This is good news, concerning how wordy regular lawyers get when composing lease agreements, contracts, and other documentation. When I need an interpretation of language, a ninja lawyer can scan it with the velocity of a thirsty cheetah and rather than e-mail me the answer, his method of informing me yes or no is far cooler. One shuriken in my door for Yes, two for No.
And man, you’ve got to see a ninja lawyer litigate. The blowhard counsel that our accusers found in a phonebook can go on and on about “legal precedent” and “facts of the case” and “pushed his client down many stairs,” but you can hear the fear in his voice. No matter how his oration goes, he secretly knows that the white-cloaked defense ninja in the corner standing silently is just going to do something ridiculously cool the moment he looks away. Phonebook lawyer blinks, and WHAM! The case has been thrown out on account of the plaintiff secretly admitting they love the flick “Surf Ninjas.”
Of course there are few kinks to be worked out when employing shadow warriors to be your law department. On Monday-Thursday, most people at BCE wear suits and dress professionally, and then dress down for Casual Friday. Ninja lawyers spend the first four days in black pajamas. How do you dress down, you ask?
Easy, they become invisible.
Invisible employees are a pain to keep track of.
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