By: John S. Morlu II, CPA
Once upon a time, in a quaint town where opportunity hung as ripe as fruit on the vine, there was a small business. It started with a dream—one built on hard work, innovation, and an unwavering belief in the power of a loyal team. The founder, an optimistic entrepreneur, poured their heart, soul, and a not-insignificant portion of their life savings into this enterprise. They believed that with the right people by their side, the sky was the limit.
But as time went on, the entrepreneur began to notice something odd. The business wasn’t soaring to the heights they had imagined. Instead, it seemed to be sinking under the weight of its own potential. The culprit, as it turned out, was not external market forces or an unforeseen economic downturn. No, the true saboteurs were sitting right inside the office, disguised as employees.
The ringleader of this ragtag group was none other than Daisy, a model employee—if your model was a slowly deflating balloon. Daisy had a rare talent for looking busy while achieving absolutely nothing. She could spend hours hunched over her desk, furrowing her brow at spreadsheets, only to produce work that could generously be described as “minimalist.” But Daisy was not just lazy; she was an artist of indolence, a virtuoso of sloth.
Daisy’s most impressive feat was her uncanny ability to manufacture personal crises that perfectly coincided with deadlines. The stress of her work, she claimed, was enough to break a lesser woman. “If I don’t get away for a week, I might just perish from all this pressure,” she would sigh dramatically as she filled out her vacation request form. And who could deny her? After all, Daisy was clearly suffering—from an acute case of workplace dramatics.
Her colleagues, rather than stepping up in her absence, seemed inspired by Daisy’s example. They, too, discovered the joys of being “overwhelmed” by the mere presence of work. There was Tim, who developed a chronic case of “meeting-itis,” a condition that made him allergic to actually finishing tasks. Tim was an expert at scheduling meetings to discuss the meetings they needed to have about upcoming meetings. The entrepreneur once calculated that Tim had single-handedly consumed enough man-hours in meetings to run a small country.
Then there was Linda, who had a special knack for “strategic procrastination.” Linda was always planning—planning to plan, planning to start, planning to finish, but somehow, never actually planning to deliver. She kept her desk impeccably organized with color-coded sticky notes and a meticulously arranged calendar, giving off the appearance of someone who was always on the brink of productivity. The entrepreneur suspected that if you looked up “potential” in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Linda, eternally poised on the edge of action.
But the pièce de résistance of the team was Joe, the king of the long lunch. Joe had an almost religious devotion to his two-hour lunch breaks, during which he would engage in deep, philosophical discussions about how much work he had waiting for him back at the office. By the time Joe returned to his desk, it was often time for him to start winding down for the day. “Can’t burn out if you never light the fire,” Joe would chuckle, before leaving promptly at 4:59 PM.
As these employees mastered the art of doing as little as possible, the small business began to suffer. Clients drifted away, frustrated by missed deadlines and lackluster service. Revenue dwindled, and the entrepreneur found themselves staring at the balance sheet with a growing sense of dread. The company was bleeding money, and the hemorrhage seemed to align perfectly with payday.
Each month, the entrepreneur engaged in a delicate financial ballet, shuffling funds, taking out loans, and praying that this would be the month the business turned a corner. But every month, the result was the same: the coffers were drained, and the liabilities continued to pile up. It became a running joke that the business’s most consistent revenue stream was the influx of debt.
To make matters worse, Daisy’s crises became more elaborate. She once claimed that the sheer volume of emails in her inbox had given her “carpal tunnel of the soul,” necessitating a week-long retreat to a wellness spa. “I just need to reconnect with my inner peace,” she explained in her leave request. “The stress here is stifling my chakras.” Who could argue with that?
Meanwhile, Linda had decided that the best way to tackle her overwhelming workload was to outsource her stress. She would often sidle up to the entrepreneur, a picture of frazzled nerves, and unload her latest existential work crisis. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to manage all this,” she’d say, handing off a minor task that she’d managed to turn into a mountain. “I think I need to focus on the big picture stuff.”
Tim, on the other hand, continued to expand his meeting empire. At one point, it was estimated that 75% of the company’s working hours were spent in meetings organized by Tim, each one more pointless than the last. “We’re making progress,” Tim would say, as yet another hour slipped away in discussions that could have been emails.
And Joe? Well, Joe’s lunch breaks evolved into full-blown siestas. He once returned from lunch with a noticeable suntan, claiming that he’d been “networking” with potential clients. The fact that he never brought in any new business was, in Joe’s eyes, purely coincidental.
As the entrepreneur watched their dream slip through their fingers, they couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer audacity of it all. Here they were, borrowing money every month to pay salaries and benefits, essentially funding the luxurious lifestyles of Daisy, Tim, Linda, and Joe. Employees, they realized, could either be a company’s greatest assets or its most expensive liabilities. And in this case, they were a liability so large it could sink the Titanic.
One day, after yet another client defected to a competitor, the entrepreneur had an epiphany. Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t enough to simply employ people. Maybe it was time to employ the right people. It dawned on them that liabilities, like weeds, needed to be pulled before they choked the life out of the business.
But, as with all good stories, there was a twist. Just as the entrepreneur was about to take drastic action, Daisy returned from her latest “life-saving” vacation with a gift. “I found this amazing book on team dynamics while I was away,” she said, handing over a shiny new copy of The 4-Hour Workweek. “I think it could really help us streamline things around here.”
The entrepreneur stared at the book, then at Daisy, and then back at the book. They realized that perhaps it wasn’t just the employees who needed to change, but the expectations as well. The truth was, they had allowed this culture of Daisyness to flourish by not addressing the underlying issues sooner. It was a tough pill to swallow, but the entrepreneur had to accept that in some ways, they had failed as much as Daisy had.
In the end, the entrepreneur made the difficult decision to let go of the team and start fresh. They realized that a business is only as strong as the people who drive it—and sometimes, that means driving out the people who hold it back.
With a renewed sense of purpose and a much lighter payroll, the entrepreneur set out to rebuild their business. They vowed to hire not just for skill, but for attitude, commitment, and a genuine desire to contribute. No more Daisys, no more Tims, no more Lindas, and definitely no more Joes.
As for Daisy, Tim, Linda, and Joe, they were last seen discussing a startup idea for a company that specialized in high-stress vacation planning. They called it Work Retreats Inc., and rumor has it they’re already planning their first extended holiday. Some habits, after all, are hard to break.
But in a twist of poetic justice, their venture didn’t last long. Their business, founded on the same principles that had sunk their previous employer, collapsed under the weight of its own inefficiency. Word spread quickly, and soon everyone was saying, “We knew it… those four couldn’t run themselves, much less a business.”
The entrepreneur, having learned their lesson, went on to rebuild a lean, mean, and highly productive team. The business began to flourish once more, and this time, it soared—unencumbered by the weight of the past. Daisy, Tim, Linda, and Joe? Well, they continued to search for that elusive work-life balance, but it seemed the universe had other plans. And the small business? It lived happily ever after, albeit with a much more discerning hiring process.
Author: John S. Morlu II, CPA is the CEO and Chief Strategist of JS Morlu, leads a globally recognized public accounting and management consultancy firm. Under his visionary leadership, JS Morlu has become a pioneer in developing cutting-edge technologies across B2B, B2C, P2P, and B2G verticals. The firm’s groundbreaking innovations include AI-powered reconciliation software (ReckSoft.com) and advanced cloud accounting solutions (FinovatePro.com), setting new industry standards for efficiency, accuracy, and technological excellence.
