UK Classic Cars Magazine - 1993The guy who insured pig farms came up with the idea over lunch. Get a syndicate together and buy Steve McQueen's Porsche 911. The marketing guy, who dreamed up porn movie plots, was in for $10,000. His best, a bizarre "I Dream of Jeannie" plot device where Major Nelson's penis size increased with each Jeannie "blink" while being boinked.
The pig farm guy was in for $20,000. He wasn't married, came from money and was boinking the agency owner's secretary. A courageous and ultimately foolish decision. I was married, poor and boinking no one so $10,000 to me was a stretch but not impossible since bonus time was fast approaching.
But January turned into February and rumors of the big day spread across the 20th floor of the Hancock like wild fire on the Serengeti. B-Day finally came in April -- Never under estimate the power of keeping people economically off balance. Account executives sneaked calculators into bathrooms where they would attempt to make sense of numbers in symbolic privacy.
Vice presidents closed office doors and, whether in defeat or celebration, called wives. Celebrants somehow managed to find each other after 5:01 PM and proceeded to drink, smoke cigars, fall off bar stools and show each other their bonus checks.
By midnight, the celebrants stumbled into homes where wives called them beer smelling ashtrays. The tirades cut short only by showing a crumpled piece of paper that turned into a new kitchen, car, bathroom or house. It did not turn into a 69 Porsche. I never did like Steve McQueen.
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