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Three months ago, I interviewed a woman who was 102 years old. My subordinates said that she wouldn’t be able to cut it in our super fast paced business building.

That her heart would give out.

That she hadn’t been a CEO for over sixty years.

But as a CEO myself, the CCEO of a company made up entirely of CEOs, I know talent when I see it.

And as a recruiter, I never write a story unless it’s about recruiting an underdog or not recruiting someone who seems fucking awesome.

And this lady was definitely not awesome seeming.

She didn’t have a resume, and she arrived soaking wet for some reason. She asked if I knew where Philip was. I said “Philip’s dead.” Turning to my ECEO, I screamed “Hire this underdog!”.

Fast forward to the future, which is now. That centinarrian is my top performing creature. She’s hired six hundred other CEOs, not one of them under the age of sixty-five or at all undisabled. Tomorrow, I’m promoting her.

My company that I founded is insane-making. We are the dreamers of disparate unrealities. I am trapped in a hellish nightmare of my own creation.

I can’t stop.

I will continue until the heat death of the universe.

Help me.