The History of an Evil CEO

Chapter VIII Nonsense Lifetime Part 2

As agreed, Xavier, Matthew, Matteo and I met at a bar on a breezy Friday afternoon. The place was dimly lit, filled with murmurs of conversation and clinking glasses. We took a table in a corner, where our conversation quickly turned to the topic on everyone's mind: the company's terrible decisions. The mismanagement by Ludwin and his team had become unbearable, leaving us frustrated and searching for solutions.

Xavier and Matteo proposed an ambitious idea: a boycott. While bold, we immediately ran into a major problem: Leith Pierre, the company's operations manager, was neither the most attentive nor the most practical leader. How could we organize an effective boycott when no one was watching closely enough to notice? I suggested discrediting Ludwin by exposing his shady practices, something I had tried before during the Watergate scandal. But since Ludwin had evaded accountability by then, this approach seemed futile. We needed a new strategy, something subtle but impactful. Eventually, an idea began to take shape: Why not create our own toys in secret? We called our covert operation "The Master Plan." The concept was simple: work on innovative toy designs without the company's knowledge, bypassing its rigid processes and Ludwin's influence. With the plan in place, we left the bar and headed to Wilson's house to recruit him.

Wilson, ever cautious, was hesitant at first. He was nervous about the risks, but he couldn't deny the appeal of the idea. After all, he was also dissatisfied with the direction of the company. Over time, as we shared our vision, his resistance lessened, and he eventually agreed to join us. We regrouped at my house that night, papers and pencils strewn across the living room as we brainstormed. Matteo and I sketched out the designs, while Wilson and Xavier focused on figuring out the mechanics. Matteo took charge of writing the instructions, making sure everything was clear and easy to use.

As the hours passed, inspiration struck: what if we combined two existing toys to create something completely new? I proposed the idea of merging unlikely creatures, like a cat and a bee, for example. The room erupted in laughter at the absurdity, but the idea stuck. Creating toys was harder than I remembered, but it was also exciting. Eventually, we expanded the idea to include other wacky combinations: a bird and a hippo, a mouse, and... something too ridiculous to mention. Wilson even joked about mixing Trichophyton and Trichoderma, which sent us into fits of laughter. Despite the silliness, the exercise sparked our creativity.

By the end of the night, we had settled on a handful of concepts. Although they were still preliminary, we were proud of what we had accomplished. We all went home feeling energized, ready to continue the next morning.

On Saturday morning, we met again with renewed enthusiasm. Using scraps and materials I had collected over the years, I built a prototype of one of our designs. Watching the toy come to life was magical. It had been a long time since I had worked on something creative with a team, and the experience reminded me why I loved making toys in the first place. While the prototype wasn't perfect, it was a promising start. We all marveled at the result and brainstormed ideas for improving it. As the afternoon progressed, we realized we had completed the third step of our plan and it was time to regroup and focus on the next phase.

That evening, I wrote a letter to Natalia. I couldn't wait to show her what we had accomplished. I described the prototype in detail and asked for her ideas and suggestions. Since I already knew her address from a previous visit, I sent the letter off immediately, eager to hear her response.

On the way to the post office, my mind wandered to darker thoughts: What was Ludwin really up to? And who was Dr. Sawyer? The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became. Sawyer's presence in a toy factory made no sense. What was his role? Why did Ludwin trust him so much? Questions piled up, but I pushed them aside. Returning home, I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. Our master plan was ambitious, but also risky. Could we really pull it off without Ludwin or Leith noticing? The idea made me nervous, but the possibility of creating something meaningful, something truly ours, outweighed the fear. That weekend marked the beginning of something special. It wasn't just about toys—it was about reclaiming control, standing up to a system we didn't believe in, and proving to ourselves that we were capable of greatness.

For now, the Master Plan remained our secret. But in the quiet moments, as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder: What would Ludwin think if he knew what we were up to? One thing was certain—we were just getting started.