Who was Bingsop?
Wednesday, Jan. 4, 2012 at 10:00pm
Nowhere is this subtle blend of the sublime and the ridiculous more evident than in the charming fables laid down by the ancient scribe now known to the world as Bingsop. Long thought lost, these artifacts of an ancient corporate culture were discovered in an abandoned credenza tucked into the corner of a remote office whose tenant had gone Chapter 11 in some crash or other. Their provenance and importance was declared almost immediately by a host of web destinations.
At the age of about 30, as was customary of his time, he entered into formal servitude with a large corporation, taking an office in a far outpost of the enterprise with several fine museums but no night life. After a long period of enslavement, he received several excellent bonuses over a stretch of three or four years and, thus purchasing his freedom, wandered off into under-employment. It is said he even became a consultant for a time, although to his credit such hearsay has never been verified.
Even in his indenture, Bingsop had it pretty easy. The corporations of that time rewarded the very high-level slave with a life of comfort and a certain amount of influence and power. Most importantly, Bingsop’s functional position, (which is not clearly defined in his writing), allowed him to travel as widely as the international tentacles of his company, studying the ways of human beings in a variety of business situations from the most informal to the most structured and bizarre. He worked with the great and the near-great, most of whom are now lost in the shifting sands of time, although they certainly thought they were pretty big hotshots while it lasted. Unfortunately, not everyone was amused by Bingsop’s act.
It was a miscalculated anecdote, in the end, that is thought to have laid him low. In the later part of his career, as he was touring about as an after-dinner speaker and juggler (capable of keeping three sheets of letterhead aloft without dropping or creasing a single one), he found himself in Las Vegas, talking to a phalanx of drunken security analysts and investment bankers. Finding them surprisingly dull of wit, and perhaps having drunk too much himself and slept too little the night before, Bingsop neglected to disguise his message behind his customary veil of good humor, and the group, enraged at having paid a hefty sum for the pleasure of having an unflattering mirror held up to them, rushed the podium and beat him to death with the souvenir baseball bats they had received in their convention gift bags.
After this untimely end, the fame of Bingsop only grew, his fables moving across continents, speaking to generations of wage slaves and free executives alike with sagacity, subtlety and charm. The truth is ever-evolving. It is the task of individuals like Bingsop to send that truth off into the world like a little child, where it may grow, gain force and definition over time, and perhaps one day change the world. Until that time, little tales such as these will always be welcome wherever they may go, particularly after dinner.