Why lookee here. We got ourselves a city boy from out East, aiming to strike it rich. Yessir, this weary prospector had you pegged the second you moseyed into camp. Don’t be a stranger. Grab yerself a seat by the fire, take a swig of this here moonshine, and connect with me on LinkedIn.
Put ‘er there, partner! Haven’t spoken to another living, breathing human being in ages, not since the Great Marketing Mixer of ‘68. Been out in these parts going on fifty years now. The name’s Ol’ Sassafras. Course, in some circles I’m also known as Glen Martindale, M.B.A., Kellogg School of Management.
You heard chatter of me back in town, eh? Plenty of folk think I’m loony. Say I’m wasting my time executin’ strategic initiatives and developin’ growth strategies. But make no mistake: it’s them’s the fools. There’s shareholder value out in them there hills, I tell ya. I can smell it.
All the signs are right. Investor confidence is at an all-time high—if you listen real close to the wind blowing through the canyon, you can hear voices saying so. Plus I traded my last tin of hardtack to a Mohawk scout for a bit of value chain analysis, so this old-timer knows exactly where to dig for untapped market potential. I also let go of my good for nuthin’ mules as part of a corporate reorg (I ate ‘em).
Dagnabbit, I’ll be rich! I’m gonna make a million bucks for each tooth in my mouth. That’s right, three million bucks! No more lonely nights putting together Powerpoint decks by candlelight. High society and paid conference appearances await. This time next summer, I’ll be splashing around in a gold bathtub with Howard Schultz. Then I’ll get me a dame. No wait, two dames! Very important to have balanced gender representation on my executive board, after all.
A cityslicker like you probably ain’t half as dumb as he looks, not if you made it this far. You reckon you could get in on the ground floor of an exciting new business venture? Tell ya what… I’ll give you two percent equity for a can of beans. Five percent if you attach a string to the empty can like a telephone—I’m expecting some very important calls.
You’ll take it under consideration!? Quit pouring molasses down my trousers. Ol’ Sassafras knows a firm-but-professional rejection when he sees one. I knew you lacked the gumption. Just like the judges on Shark Tank.
Word to the wise, though. Watch yourself out here. This ain’t one of yer fancy schmancy corporate picnics. Every summer a boatload of young hopefuls like yourself come out here with dollar signs in their eyes, but this ain’t no country for entry level types. The lucky ones stumble home, their pockets emptied of everything but a few business cards. The cruel winter takes the rest. Our poor undertaker has to pry the frozen bodies out of their Patagonia vests.
But Sassafras is gonna make it, by gum. I’ve even been practicin’ a jig for when I’m ready to IPO. Here goes!
Yeowch! I tripped on this durn gold nugget someone left behind. My ankle’s as busted as a two-cent wagon wheel. It’s times like these I almost regret liquidating my company healthcare plan. Help! Help me! Someone lend a hand to an oligarch in the making?
I hear something in the brush. Who’s there?
Why bless my boots, it’s a pack of friendly coyotes. Say, any of you fellas interested in the investment opportunity of a lifetime?