“I’ve been diagnosed with terminal cancer,” the CEO told his vice-presidents. “The doctors say that I have two years to live. You three have run this business for years, but I want to hand it over to just one of you as sole owner.
“So, for the next two years, I’m giving you an extra task.”
He reached into his desk, and pulled out three small burlap bags. “Seeds,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you what to do with them.”
Two years later, he called the three vice-presidents to his hospice bedside.
“Tell me what you did with my seeds,” he ordered.
The first vice-president stepped forward. “I knew that the seeds were a challenge,” he explained. “Obviously, the seeds themselves were worthless. You wanted to see what I could do with nothing. So I put them on e-bay. I traded them for someone’s left shoe. Which I traded up for a broken skateboard. And I traded that for a package of bubblegum that had never been chewed…
“Every day for the last two years, I have made a trade of some kind on your behalf.
“And so, today, I’m happy to present to you this certificate. You are currently the sole owner of the country of Liberia.”
The dying CEO glanced at the title document, and placed it on his bedside table without comment.
The second vice-president stepped up.
“Unlike my associate here,” he said, nodding at the first vice-president, “I realized that the seeds you gave me had a symbolic value. They represented the agricultural industry. So I leveraged your seeds into commodity futures. I bought on margin. I sold short. I patented basmati rice and maple syrup—no one can use them now without paying you a royalty.
“I manipulated international transfer payments to minimize declared incomes and maximize intercorporate profits. I stored the revenue in untraceable offshore bank accounts.
“At this point, you control the world market for coconut palm oil, cassava roots, and tofu-burger patties.”
The CEO looked at the third vice-president.
“I have to disagree with both of my colleagues,” he said. “I assumed that the seeds were, in fact, seeds. I didn’t know what kind of seeds, so I planted them. I got sunflowers, which produced more seeds. I got salvia, and lupines, and marigolds. There were some funny looking little bulbs; they gave me gladiolus, allium, and oriental lilies.
“I took some surplus seedlings to a church yard sale, and exchanged them for wisteria and honeysuckle vines, and some dahlia tubers.
“I now have deep pendulous purple blossoms over my patio. I have more than 40 varieties of roses. The compost that I dig into the vegetable garden gives me tomatoes, beans, and peas. Butterflies flit around the buddleia bushes in the day; bees buzz in the lavender; koi swim in the pond.
“It’s beautiful, and peaceful. After a tough day at the office, it feels like a deep pool of calm when I go home. Would you like me to take you to see what your seeds have become?” he offered.
The CEO shook his head. “No need,” he said. “I’ve made my choice. I’m turning my company over to…
Author Jim Taylor lives in Lake Country: rewrite@shaw.ca