Udder Chaos in the Corporate World: Beef, it's what's for Blogger

Your first response is panic. You slowly gopher your head up from your cubicle to investigate. What you see is not comforting. A large minotaur has escaped from his labyrinth and is ransacking your office. You drop back into your seat, sweating bullets, breathing quickly, looking around your desk for anything remotely close to a weapon. You grab your stapler. Your trusty stapler.

You hear commotion from the department over. Was that a scream you heard? Of course it was. The minotaur is chopping your coworkers to bits with a giant minotaury axe.


Finally your rationale kicks in. Minotaurs don't exist, you remind yourself. You stand to take another glance at the monster invading your workplace. Is that...a cow? It is! It's just a cow! And yet, you don't feel relieved. The only other logical explanation is that the cows have risen up. Everyone thought it would be the machines or zombies but little did we know, our greatest flock would also be our greatest adversary. Your grip tightens around the stapler. You fire off a few clicks into the carpet, and in your lowest, most bad-ass voice, you mutter "I guess it's just you and me Betty"

[please tell me at least one other person names their office supplies]

You sneak out from under your desk, squatting down the hall. The other cubicles are empty. "They got them. They got all of them. I'm...all alone." You stop to grieve your fallen colleagues, but only for a moment. This is no time for tears or fears. Your enemy is formidable, fueled with vengeance after years, decades, centuries of horrendous slaughter, slavery and horny Irishmen. "We had it coming" you whisper to yourself. "This is karma, this is judgment day"

You crawl around a bend and throw your back to a cubicle wall, peeking ever so slowly around the corner. One of the cows has it's back to you. You swallow hard, checking to see that your stapler is loaded. You click the lever back in place. You know what you have to do. This is for your friends, this is for humanity, this is for milk and steak lovers across the globe, this...is for....freeeeeeeeddoooommmm!!!!! And with a deep breath, you rise from your hiding and charge the unsuspecting renegade steed.






It turns around quickly, it's eyes black and empty like a great white shark's , it's mouth open, revealing giant, crushing teeth, its arms full of...

...calendars, t-shirts, pencils, coupons and...stuffed 'beanie-baby' cows.

You stop dead in your tracks.
You stare at the cow.
It stares back at you.
There is a long silence.

Then the cow hands you a calendar, lets out a bellowing "Moooo" and in a soft, female voice, says "Eat Mor Chikin!" and turns and walks away.

You stand there for a moment, stunned, confused, certain that what you have been given is some type of anthrax-laced time-bomb that will detonate any second, but you don't throw it. You continue holding it, looking down at the bright, glossy cover that says "One Hit Wonder Cows - If it weren't for chicken, they'd be a flash in the pan!" Instead, you manage to murmur, "Thank you...?" and return to your desk, humbled and in awe of what just happened, though slightly discouraged you weren't able to fire off a few rounds from ol betty.

In 1946, a devout Southern Baptist by the name of Samuel Truett Cathy, opened a restaurant called the Dwarf Grill and created a recipe for a simple chicken sandwich. That sandwich would eventually become Cathy's primary focus, inspiring him to open the first Chick-fil-A restaurant in 1967.

Now, 40 years later, Chick-fil-A has over 1,300 locations nationwide and that Baptist boy from Georgia who has taught Sunday School for over 50 years, [Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays] is now the 799th richest person in the world, with a net worth of almost 2 billions dollars. The company has set up shop across the country, as restaurants, drive-thru only facilities, Mall food court depots and a catering service that visits parties, parks and, as in my situation, corporations looking to expand their cafeteria options.

Chick-fil-A's marketing strategy entails having cows endorse the consumption of chickens as a means to minimize and cease our obsession with beef. It's genius actually, in a creepy, sadistic kind of way.

While I have always been a big fan of befriending your meal before you devour it, I have to admit, it feels a little strange seeing a cow plead for it's life. It's even stranger to see it suggest we eat it's neighbor. I imagine this is similar to me, after being seized by a horde of hungry cannibals, offering my tour guide [that happens to be a midget] as a healthy alternative to eating me for dinner.

In fact, "Eat mor Mijets" would be a far better advertising campaign and one that is guaranteed to pull in revenue by my investments alone. I of course would throw my midget tour guide at the cannibals and run, screaming through the jungle, but I would at least feel a little bad...just as the cows should for their betrayal.

All I know is that there is nothing more alarming, more distracting, or more peculiar than, whilst plugging away at a rather intricate project given to you by your vice president, a 7ft tall cow begins parading around your office, hooves-a-stomping, udders-a-shaking, tail-a-dangling and mouth-a-mooing, handing out free marketing paraphernalia for a fast food chain.

Well, I suppose if instead of cows, they used 7ft tall, nude Amazon women, udders-a-shakin, mouths-a-mooin...that would be a bit more distracting......and.......hot.

Mmmmm, amazon udders.....