Humor
Born to Business with David Business, LinkedIn Warrior (№15)
Busch Gardens
My first job out of business school was at Busch Gardens, a B-tier theme park in Tampa Bay. It was a dream come true for someone (aka David) interested in helping underdog brands. I was hired to run a now-defunct coaster called “Shark Mama Loops”, but I almost immediately put in for a transfer to the financial department. Imagine my surprise when I found out, and get ready for this, there was no finance department. They had accounting, human resources, and men in frog costumes for miles, but not a single strategic financial analyst?
Opportunity = found
In quick succession, I printed myself a new business card, marched into my manager’s office, and announced to him I was now their lead financial analyst. He growled back at me in his deep Floridian brogue, “I don’t give a shit what you call yourself, just make sure the trash goes out on Friday.”
And just like that my title changed.
From there I began to track every metric I could think of. Average dollar spend at the popcorn shack, the relative decibel level of screams for each ride, daily volume of vomit (categorized by age and hair color)— I was in heaven. If there’s a kink related to data collection, I got it bad. I hoarded data like a nasty little rat and built a spreadsheet so dense in its complexity not even Alan Turing and his British goons could crack it.
Next on the agenda, I looked for correlations. Did choice of soda impact length of stay? How did cloud coverage interact with popcorn salinity? Since the gift shop introduced novelty key chains, had animal welfare improved? I mixed and matched data like a power-mad interior designer. Crunching these numbers used so much processing power I even crashed a ride system. Sure, a youth soccer league got trapped in the Congo River Rapids, but there are costs to innovation.
After three grueling months, I emerged from my data cavern with a bevy of juicy correlations. It was time to enact change. Oh, but I can hear you now.
David! Correlation doesn’t equal causation.
My response? Grow up. You’re also not supposed to goof around in abandoned mines. But you know what you might find in a mine? A diamond.
So with print-outs in hand, I once again stormed into my manager’s office. I had chugged a Red Bull and watched the iPhone keynote address three times, it was time to make this little theme park a real contender with Disney. But before I could get a single word out he blurted in anger.
“David, you haven't taken the trash out in four months! There’s a giant festering pile of shit in the alley. You’re fired.”
His words shot through me like a bullet. He was right. In my quest for innovation, I had left my core business unattended. I was like a father who sought fame at the bowling alley, while his kids sat alone in the car playing Tamagotchi. How could I have been so short-sighted? I solemnly handed over my keycard and ID badge and left the premises. I was so dejected I left the presentation sitting on his desk. Not a single Point Powered.
Months later, I contacted a friend of mine who stilled worked there.
“Did Ron ever take a look at the data I left on his desk?”
“Not yet.”
It was music to my ears. As painter Jim Carrey once said:
“There’s a chance.”
And so my data sits at his desk like a book of revelation yet to be unearthed. One day he will pick up my tome, pour through its contents, and have no choice but to enact radical change. The park will then flourish with innovation and kick Disney’s sorry ass to the curb, all because a lone wolf looked for data in the abyss. I pray that after I’m long dead and gone, a stonemason will have to be hired to chisel on my grave:
“The Data Maverick of Busch Garden”
Until then, I’ll just be the guy who forgot to take out the trash.
David Business is an aspiring CEO, self-accredited LinkedIn expert, and personal associate of writer Kenny Gray. You can connect with David on LinkedIn for even more innovative content.
