![]() 11/04/2015 at 11:32 • Filed to: golf cart, business management | ![]() | ![]() |
The board of directors is incensed. I stand before them, arms outstretched in a gesture that exuded openness and trustworthiness, or so an in-flight magazine once said. I repeat the words: V8-powered golf carts. I twist my posture slightly and rap my knuckles on the projector screen behind me, flashing screaming WordArt in glorious 800x600.
I have them now.
When I started at this small golf cart company as the vice-president of engineering, the director of engineering stopped by my office. A tall, lanky man, he no doubt saw himself as a mentor and a father figure to me. I saw him as an unusually large speed bump. Regardless, the company and myself were done with him within months. His marriage and employment somehow broke down simultaneously in a series of ridiculous rumours spread by cruel saboteurs around the water cooler and Christmas party.
With that last obstacle removed, I ascended to corporate Godhood. I directed the research and development boys to get cranking on a skunkworks project, and started moving budgets around to cover my project until the last possible minute. It was complete, and that minute of my triumph had arrived.
Behind me, the projector flipped to a test video. A 427-topped golf cart screamed through a cone maze before breaking into an unrestrained flat spin. The spin would only stop once the driver lost consciousness and struck the roll hoop with his helmet, splintering it into a glittering starfield of carbon fiber dust.
The board of directors was shocked, speechless at my callous disregard for the health and safety of our customers. One of them was about to say something, but I headed him off at the pass with a quick click to the next slide, showing millions of confirmed preorders. The room fell silent, then burst into applause.
Ted, the CEO, made finger guns at me and winked. I winked back and grinned broadly, sliding a pair of keys to him across the table, marked in matte black electrical tape. Internally, I wondered how strong his neck muscles were.
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![]() 11/04/2015 at 11:39 |
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I’d order one. I’d pick up golf if 427 powered golf carts were on offer. Or a hayabusa swap.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 11:41 |
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If you’re going to put something as tiny as a Hayabusa in, just cut the back off a Smart Fortwo and use it like a short wheelbase, sportbike powered El Camino.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 11:44 |
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What about a turbo hayabusa swap? Or if you’re going v shaped engines, the LFA v10.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 12:00 |
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“Internally, I wondered how strong his neck muscles were.”
The point at which this post went from “yes” to “yaaas!”
![]() 11/04/2015 at 12:07 |
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I like where you’re coming from with this, but you have to think rationally.
Sure, we could do an LFA V10, or we could fill that entire space with a constellation of turbocharged 13Bs.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 12:09 |
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Why not have a 13B for every wheel? It’s like electric hub motors but more doritos.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 12:38 |
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I’d say you’re hired. You start Monday.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 13:39 |
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Um. Where?
![]() 11/04/2015 at 14:25 |
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This is the best Oppo.
Tripple S for president!
![]() 11/04/2015 at 16:10 |
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(waves vaguely in the background)
Megan will get in touch to fill you in.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 17:42 |
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Megan? how will I be contacted? Here? My phone? mail? Someone in a mask cutting my windows open with a chainsaw?
![]() 11/04/2015 at 18:31 |
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You seem pretty confused. Let’s be honest, you’ve been working pretty hard lately. How about taking an unpaid sabbatical? Your work will still be here when you get back.
![]() 11/04/2015 at 19:01 |
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So I can just run and you’ll never find me.