Take-aways for future leaders

When I heard that Miss Biltong was still alive and at it, I went straight to the School of Business Speak to see if it was true. I knew she was a tough old bird but this was absurd. As retentive readers will recall, the School of Business Speak, or Sobs, is the place that trains our future corporate overlords, and Miss Biltong, for years, was their star teacher. Her catechisms of business cliche´ , filched from an idea by Flann O’Brien who filched it in turn from the Catholic church, have underlain the business and political discourse in this country for as long as anyone can remember. There’s barely a current CEO who didn’t sit at Miss Biltong’s feet as a child, sphincter gently dilating.

I last wrote about Miss Biltong in 2003, and even then she seemed on the point of retirement, if not expiry. Could she really still be at work? She could. As I entered the sacred halls of Sobs, I heard that familiar quavery voice ring down the corridor and shake the framed photographs of alumni who had gone on to prosper.

‘‘Right, my little human resources,’’ she said in a manner that entertained no possibility of dissent. ‘‘It’s the 17th of the month so it will be Business Catechism no 17, will it not?’’ – ‘‘Yes Miss Biltong,’’ came the sing-song response.

Surprised by the onset of mild sphincterawareness myself, I peeped through the glass of the classroom door. There she was, a little more stooped perhaps than 16 years ago but still bright of eye and dressed in a tweed skirt that could stop a bullet. In front of her sat 30 children, our future leaders, including the scholar in the National Party’s Future Prime Minister seat. This was a plump child with a neat parting and a badge saying ‘‘I Like Aeroplanes and God’’.

‘‘Are we ready?’’ – ‘‘Yes, Miss Biltong.’’

‘‘Do we have lessons?’’ – ‘‘No, we have learnings.’’

‘‘Do we learn learnings?’’ – ‘‘No, we take them away.’’

‘‘And having taken them away?’’ – ‘‘Who cares?’’ ‘‘What practice do we favour?’’ – ‘‘Best.’’ ‘‘What edge is our technology?’’ – ‘‘Cutting.’’ ‘‘What case is our scenario?’’ – ‘‘Worst.’’ ‘‘What win is our situation?’’ – ‘‘Win.’’ ‘‘What agreeable-meteorological-phenomenon thinking do we encourage?’’ – ‘‘Blue sky.’’

‘‘What mildly less agreeable meteorological phenomena do economies sometimes face?’’ – ‘‘Headwinds.’’

‘‘Going whereward are we at the end of every sentence?’’ – ‘‘For.’’

‘‘Excuse me, miss.’’ – ‘‘Yes, Christopher.’’ ‘‘May I be excused?’’ – ‘‘Oh Christopher, you have much to learn before you take over the country. Can anyone help Christopher? Yes, Simon?’’

‘‘Christopher wishes to downsize, going forward.’’ – ‘‘Well done, Simon. Is it time-critical, Christopher?’’ – ‘‘Er, not any more, miss.’’

‘‘Ah well, we’re almost done.’’ – ‘‘Holders of what sharpened wooden upright must we always take into consideration?’’ – ‘‘Stake.’’

‘‘To what handled-container case economy do we not aspire?’’ – ‘‘Basket.’’

‘‘To what libertine drug-addled excess-drenched musical performance artist economy do we aspire?’’ – ‘‘Rock star.’’

‘‘Very good, children. You will serve your country and your corporations well. But before I let you out on to the level playing field, one final question: What, ostensibly clinchingly but actually vacuously and tautologously, is it?’’ – ‘‘What it is,’’ bellowed 30 joyous treble voices.

‘‘You may go,’’ said Miss Biltong, her ravaged features twisting into what I took to be a smile, and out they went to run the world.