Memo to All My Valued Employees

Listening to AM640 here in Toronto today, I heard an excellent discussion about the letter from “The Boss,” a truth-be-told debate about the value of tax-cuts, stimulus and taxation. In the current climate of government intervention, and neo-socialism, the letter is a breath of fresh air for those of us who have made the greatest productive contribution. Thanks to Charles Adler ^[1] for posting the letter at his blog.

To go one step further, it is reminiscent of the world of Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged,” in which the story’s heroes, the entrepreneurs, the innovators, the captains of industry, the prime-movers, decide the best remedy is to withdraw, to go on strike, as the world is looted by bureaucrats, socialists, pseudo-intellectuals, and mystics.

Memo to All My Valued Employees

Author: The Boss

There have been rumblings around the office about the future of this company and, more specifically, your job. As you know, the economy has changed for the worse and presents many challenges. The good news, however, is this: The economy doesn’t pose a threat to your job. What does threaten your job, however, is the changing political landscape in this country.

First, while it’s easy to spew rhetoric that casts employers against employees, you have to understand that for every business owner there is a back story. This back story is often neglected and overshadowed by what you see and hear. Sure, you see me park my Mercedes outside. You’ve seen my big home at last year’s Christmas party. I’m sure all these flashy icons of luxury conjure up idealized thoughts about my life. But you don’t see the back story.

I started this company 12 years ago. At that time, I lived in a 300 square foot studio apartment for three years. My entire apartment was converted into an office so I could put forth 100% effort into building a company, which, by the way, would eventually employ you. My diet consisted of noodles because every dollar I spent went back into this company. I drove a rusty Toyota Corolla with a defective transmission. I didn’t have time to date. Often times, I stayed home on weekends, while my friends went out drinking and partying. In fact, I was married to my business — hard work, discipline, and sacrifice.

Meanwhile, my friends got jobs. They worked 40 hours a week and made a modest $50K a year and spent every dime they earned. They drove flashy cars and lived in expensive homes and wore fancy designer clothes. Instead of hitting Nordstrom for the latest fashion item, I trolled through the Goodwill store extracting any clothing item that didn’t look like it was birthed in the ’70s. My friends refinanced their mortgages and lived lives of luxury. I did not. I put my time, my money, and my life into a business with a vision that, some day, I too, would be able to afford the luxuries my friends had.