By Secret CIO
Secret CIO is feeling broody.
After last month's media debacle, I've been told to lie low for a while. Which is funny, because I wasn't the one who collapsed under the pressure of answering media questions like a house of cards, I was just the one who looked incredibly shifty on the camera.
But someone's got to take the blame, and that's me. As always. So I'm banned from further press events indefinitely till somebody professional manages to salvage this fiasco.
In the meantime, I've decided to adopt. Yes, I know that decision just came out of nowhere but I'm random like that. Besides, it makes complete sense if you think about it. I'm in my mid-30s, unmarried, ridiculously loaded and have no extended family after my emancipation at 17. I also think that this crowd of idiots that surround me at work are absolutely unworthy of receiving the considerable wisdom of my extensive youth.
The only solution seems to be to transmit as much of my accumulated knowledge as possible to a willing - and unwilling, if necessary - unformed mind in the hope that someday, a CIO will arise who has an actual clue.
At this point, you're probably enquiring: why don't you get married, Secret CIO? As Occam's Razor demands, that would be the most straightforward solution, and besides , the brat might actually look like you. I say: sorry, but no dice. Secret CIO is wise in the way of women and over an extended financial period, women are simply too risky as an investment, plus offer uncertain ROI.
Adoption offers many benefits: vast choice of vendors, no restrictive long-term agreements, generous trial period and an employee with no competitor options. Settling on these terms, I made my way down to the orphanage to examine the merchandise on offer.
Immediately, my options were limited. It's nothing like an animal shelter where you can simply walk in and point to the cutest one with the fewest legs. Instead, you have to undergo a series of background checks to ascertain if you are of good character. Naturally, I found this too convoluted and opted to bribe the interviewer.
That business attended to, I set out to find a child. Now, ethnicity or background was no bar - I was after pure malice, with intelligence as an optional but useful extra. The most suitable candidate had organised the orphans into a union demanding better-quality lunches, funding her backroom movement through a secret deal with a local soup kitchen. Pleased with her go-getter attitude, I signed the release forms and took her home.
The first few days were fine - bonding progressed in an adequate manner. We played sports, played silly pranks - I started to think that there might be something to this family jazz. My house was beginning to lose some of its cold austere feeleng and I was even beginning to consider introducing her to the kids in my local park, so she would have someone to play with while I chatted up - sorry, discussed schools - with their mothers.
But it was not to be. One fateful day, the office held its inaugural "Bring your Spawn to Work Day". Dutifully, I did so, only for the office to erupt in paroxysms of pleasure at the sight of the little beast. It was appalling. All they could do was coo and caw at the thing as if its mere presence somehow negated all the horrible things I had done to them in the last year.
Worse yet, I think the child began her first steps in starting a plot against me. By the end of the day, the deputy CIO and the procurement manager were locked in deep earnest discussion with her in a corner room. I couldn't be sure what they were talking, but the girl's eyes widening in a sinister display of awe were no doubt at some scheme to replace me. The final straw was when we got home and she declared that she loved everyone there and I should take her in on Thursdays.
The next day, she was back in her cold orphanage bed and I executed my backup plan - get a white cat.