By every conceivable measure, the Evil Genius was a brilliant man. He had scored high on standardized tests, attended prestigious schools, and won accolades for his pioneering research. He was the inventor of the bottomless bowl of soup, the dream-eating robot, the Miracle Murder Machine, and many other wondrous devices besides.
However, he wasn’t able to turn his genius into cold hard cash until he developed the award-winning Santa Claus Solutions for Selling Your Way into Super Sales Success program.
“Why do I give a crap about Santa Claus? What does this have to do with our bottom line?” asked Moustache Publishing CEO “Chub” Leeds, a flint-eyed businessman who had ascended the corporate ladder by refusing to take no for an answer. At the cost of hundreds of man-hours of productivity, he had even gone so far as to forbid all of his employees from using that word when they were at work.
“It’s a rigorously-tested sales methodology that can be applied to any industry,” answered the Evil Genius.
Leeds fiddled with the stirrer in his “World’s Greatest Boss” coffee mug. “I think you’re wasting my time, buddy.”
The Evil Genius cocked an eyebrow. He had heard that these corporate types were no-nonsense, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. “I’ve only been talking for thirty seconds, Mr. Leeds.”
“That’s thirty seconds where I’m not making a sale. Now hit me with it, brainiac. Give it to me in ten words or less.”
Ten words or less! The Evil Genius thought as quickly as he could. “Win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win,” he said.
Leeds leapt out of his seat, spilling his coffee onto his secretary’s lap. “Christ, there’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” he said as he waved for an underling to deal with the spill. “But man, what you’ve got here is incredible. It’s so damn simple. How does it work?”
The Evil Genius pushed a button on his remote control and an image of a fat, jolly Santa Claus appeared on the overhead projector. “Well, think about how a Santa Claus works. You write one of these guys a letter asking for what you want and he gives it you—with no hidden fees or extra expenses. Santa Clauses have the lowest production costs in the world, since their workers are also their slaves, and they exist only to grant wishes.”
“I love it,” Leeds said. “It’s beautiful. Let me lay one on you: Forget the fundamentals and forfeit the funds. One of my business school profs used to say that.”
The Evil Genius nodded. “I couldn’t have put it any better, Mr. Leeds. And a Santa Claus is about as basic as it gets. I mean, there’s more to the model—you can read about it if you buy the entire consulting package—but these bare bones are what’s really important.”
Leeds was transfixed by the image of the Santa Claus. “This is an incredible vision for Moustache Publishing. This is what we’ve needed all along.”
Santa Claus Solutions didn’t make a bit of sense yet sold like gangbusters. The Evil Genius, who probably could have changed the world in some significant way, settled instead for a comfortable career as an “idea man” in the business world. He decided to put his talents to what many would consider a good use, and where’s the shame in that?