8. Lock the Doors and Watch Them Innovate

The office smelled like fake lemon and Taylorism.

Rufus Beaulieu-Mercier adjusted his sunglasses indoors — because he was that kind of prick — and swept into the gleaming converted warehouse like he’d personally invented commercial property, gentrification, and possibly glass.

“Master Silas said to remind you this is your tenth viewing in two days ” Martha said, tapping her clipboard without looking up. “And to remind you that you are, quote, not a real estate mogul, and that your taste leans suspiciously towards basic bitch, quote”

“I’m allowed to be fussy,” Rufus replied, fluffing his perfectly tousled hair while admiring himself in the reflection of a steel beam. “It’s important to choose a space that reflects the energy of the business. And that I have somewhere to park my Bentley where people can see it.”

He stopped dramatically, his red varsity jacket embroidered with ravens and the words “Skool Bitez Since 1809” swirling around him.

Extended an arm like he was unveiling a masterpiece he gestured to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the exposed steel pipes, the half-lit Edison bulbs, and the cheap laminate flooring pretending to be heritage oak.

“This is it. This screams post-revenue, pre-lawsuit, espresso-machine-dominant synergy.”

Martha didn’t answer. But the tap of her pen said everything.

”I can see it now,” Rufus continued, eyes gleaming. “Rows of barely-functioning employees grinding it out 72 hours a week to get us to our exit strategy.”

He took a deep breath and puffed up like a peacock about to fail at a mating ritual.

”Let me teach you something about business Martha”.

Martha began inspecting the skirting boards like they held the secrets of the universe.

“Working from home is a myth. A fantasy. It’s pyjamas and banana bread and lies. Do you know what people do when they’re ‘working from home,’ Martha? They crochet. They watch daytime telly.”

He mouthed the words “daytime telly” again like he’d just eaten his own ear wax.

“They masturbate between stand-ups Martha — but not in a sexy way. In a sad, lonely, yesterday’s dinner for lunch again kind of way. It’s grim, Martha. They need saved from themselves,” He began to pace, arms wide like a cult leader mid-sermon.

“You want innovation? You want disruption? You put them in one room. You lock the doors. You give them free cereal that tastes like cardboard and a threateningly chirpy head of People with a dead smile and a ukulele obsession. You let them suffer together.”

He gestured dramatically at the exposed brick wall like it was the Sistine Chapel, eyes afire with passion.

“This — this is where synergy happens. Where dreams die publicly, and that shame pushes people to greatness.”

Martha blinked once.

Rufus whipped around, eyes blazing. “You can’t manage what you can’t see, Martha! You need to feel their fear. Smell their stress. Bite their necks to keep them in line from time to time.”

He paused for a moment then leaned close to Martha as if sharing a favourite, naughty secret.

“I love watching them hesitate before sending a Slack message, because I’m sitting right behind them, sipping blood out of an oversized mug. That’s leadership, Martha!”

Martha tapped something on her clipboard.

“Master Silas also said to remind you that you once tried this same speech during lockdown. Even the office cactus didn’t, quote, buy your bullshit, quote.”

Rufus scowled. “That cactus thrived, Martha.”

She didn’t look up.

“It died because you threw it at Jeff for being 2 minutes late”

Rufus looked away, adjusting his jacket like it betrayed him.

“Well. Not everything scales.”

Bite into the next post here ⬇️ 🧛🏼‍♀️

8.1 The One With the Tote Bag

P.S If you’re new to Stakeholders, start here! ⬇️ 🧛🏼‍♀️

1. User Acquisition & Other Erotic Nightmares