“These are dire times, men,” said the CEO of Sunshine Foods to the members of the board. “Profits are up, sure, but what with all of our bonus packages eating into the margin, something’s got to give. Any ideas?”
“Layoffs!” shouted one boardmember. “Wage cuts!” said another. “Raid the workers’ pension fund!” suggested a third.
“We just had a round of layoffs two weeks ago,” said the CEO sadly. “Can’t do it again for at least another few months. And as far as wage cuts go, 90% of our workforce is employed out of backwater Third World villages, working for a handshake and a pail of donkey meat every two weeks. Oh, and the pension fund was emptied to pay my predecessor’s bonus after he was fired for malfeasance.
“We’re past ordinary measures, men.” The CEO’s voice was trembling. “This is a full-on crisis.” A stunned silence enveloped the boardroom.
“But I need a new jetplane,” one boardmember whined.
“I’ve got four alimonies to pay,” said another. “And $350,000 a month in child support!” He mopped his brow.
“This isn’t fair,” cried a third. “I want to die.” And this went on for some time.
Finally, a voice was heard from the back of the room: “I have an idea.” Everyone’s ears perked up.
“What is it?”
“Well, just the other day, I cut through the processing plant on my way back from eighteen holes at the country club with a guy from Hormel, and I noticed something:”
“There were crumbs everywhere. On the conveyor belts, on the floor:”
The CEO squinted at the back of the room, exasperated. “So what?”
“So I was just thinking: What if we sold them? The crumbs, I mean. You know, we’ll mush them together into really tiny crackers and cookies, put them in bags, and give them a funny name.”
And that’s the story of how these damn things made it to market:
At least, that’s how I imagine it.