Corporate Fairy Tales

Heartwarming tales of greed capitalism, betrayal outsourcing, and extravagant board-approved compensation packets.

Story 1 - The Tale of the Billy Goats Gruff

Once upon a time there were three billy goats, and the name of all three was "Gruff." Each day they gave a little milk to a Troll for his breakfast, and in return the Troll made sure the goats had plenty of grass to eat. The goats grew fat and everyone prospered.

Beyond the Troll’s field was a hillside covered with grass. One day the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff decided to go up to the hillside beyond the Troll’s field to make himself fatter. On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream, and the Troll lived under this bridge.

The tiniest Billy Goat Gruff started to cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, trip, trap went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the Troll.

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, with such a small voice.

“Why do you want to leave my field?” asked the Troll. “You've always had plenty to eat, and you’ve never wanted for anything.”

“Yes, that’s true,” answered the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, “ but the grass on the hill is greener than that in your field. If I am to grow as large as my two brothers, I need to cross this bridge and eat that green grass.”

“But if the grass on the hill is greener, your brothers may want to cross over as well, and then where will I get milk for my breakfast?” asked the Troll.

“The grass on the hill may be greener,” answered the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, “but your grass is still sweeter. Trust me, if you let me go on now, and if you just keep planting the sweetest grass in your field for my two brothers, even without me you’ll end up with more milk for your breakfast than you did before."

"Well, go on then," said the Troll.

The Troll worked hard planting sweet grass in his field. The two older Billy Goat Gruffs grew even fatter than before on all the sweet grass the Troll planted for them, but the Troll found he did nonetheless have less milk for breakfast each morning.

A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, creak, trip, trap, creak, trip, trap, creak, went the bridge, for the second Billy Goat Gruff was now very fat.

"Who's that tripping and creaking over my bridge?" roared the Troll.

"Oh, it's the second Billy Goat Gruf, and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, who hadn't such a small voice.

“Why do you want to leave my field?” asked the Troll. “I’ve worked hard to make sure you have lots of sweet grass, and you and your brothers have grown even fatter as a result. How much more grass do you need!”

"That’s true,” answered the second Billy Goat Gruff. “I’ve certainly done well and prospered thanks to you. But it turns out that the grass on the hillside is just as sweet, and if you look at how fat my tiniest brother has become gorging himself on that grass, you’ll have to appreciate that I have to cross over this bridge just to keep up.”

“But if the grass on the hillside is greener, and just as sweet as mine, your older brother may want to cross over as well, and then where will I get milk for my breakfast?” asked the Troll.

“The grass on the hill may be greener, and just as sweet,” answered the second Billy Goat Gruff, “but you’ve always been a smart troll. What you need to do is innovate. Trust me, if you let me cross this bridge, and you innovate, you’ll end up with more milk for your breakfast than you did before."

"Very well! Go on then," said the Troll.

The Troll thought for some time and then planted his field with new grass that was not only green and sweet, but was also tall. The big Billy Goat Gruff grew even fatter on all the tall grass that the Troll had planted, but the Troll found that he had even less milk for breakfast each morning.

A little while after came the big Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, groan, trip, trap, groan, trip, trap, groan! went the bridge, for the big Billy Goat Gruff was now so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.

"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the Troll.

"It's I! The big Billy Goat Gruff," said the billy goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.

“Why do you want to leave my field?” asked the Troll. “I’ve worked hard to make sure you have lots of green, sweet, tall grass, and you have grown even fatter as a result. How much more grass do you need!”

"That’s true,” answered the big Billy Goat Gruff; “I've certainly done well and prospered thanks to you. But it turns out that your tall grass grows just as well on the hillside, and if you look at how fat my two younger brother’s have now become gorging themselves on that grass, you’ll have to appreciate that I have to cross over the bridge just to keep up.”

"I can’t let you go,” answered the Troll. “You're my last goat, and if you go, I’ll have no milk for breakfast.”

“That sounds like Protectionism to me,” replied the big Billy Goat Gruff. “We live in a global economy, and no one is going to stop me eating where I want to.”

That was what the big billy goat said. Then he flew at the Troll and poked his eyes out with his horns and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the cascade, and after that he went up to the hillside to join his brothers. There the billy goats got so fat they were scarcely able to walk. And if the fat hasn't fallen off them, why, they're still there today, and so,

Snip, snap, snout.

This tale's told out.

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