My mother read me the story of the Little Red Hen, probably more than once, for I remember it well. I can recall the illustrations, if I’m not mistaken we owned a copy of the book, a golden book, with that gold spine.
The Little Red Hen had a great idea: let’s make a delicious cake. The animals were very excited about the cake. The Little Red Hen went around the farm yard asking “who will help me prepare the soil?”. The dog had other things to do, so did the pigs, the ducks, all the friends around the farm that were so keen on getting in on the cake project, turns out they were just a little busy.
After the soil was prepared, the seeds that would grow into the wheat they’d use to make the batter for the cake needed to be planted. “Who will help me plant the seeds?” asked the Hen, who had never read the story and hadn’t yet any insight into how things were going. She was met with the series of cheerful mealy mouthed evasions that all children are so familiar with.
Then the seeds had to be watered, the garden weeded, the wheat harvested, milled, the batter made, the cake baked, etc. Everyone was very into the cake project, and fully backed the Hen’s plan, it’s just they were all a little busy whenever she asked for help.
By the end of the book the Little Red Hen, who’d done all the work, every step, and never complained, turned into a complete bitter bitch. “Now, who will help me eat the cake?” she asked sweetly. I recall my mother’s tone, as the Hen, slightly mocking, but still very sweet, sounding at first like a genuine invitation.
They all were very excited to finally have a chance to eat the cake, which indeed looked delicious in the illustration. Then the Hen reminded them what a bunch of selfish, Johnny Come Lately pricks they all were and ate the entire cake herself.
Soon, untold in the children’s version but predictable, farmer Johnny cut the Hen’s head off and the farmer’s wife whistled as she southern fried the plump chicken.
“I told the bitch she shouldn’t have eaten that whole cake,” said the dog to one of the ducks.
I think of this story, a story where there is a delicious looking cake at the end. The characters have motivation to help, but don’t. How would it be if we changed the story a little? The Hen asks a few friends to do her a favor, she has a theory she wants to test, an educational theory that sounds a little whacky, but the friends want to be supportive so agree to be on the Hen’s Board of Directors, though none are sure what that entails, including the Hen.
Turns out Directors are responsible for overseeing the growth, functioning and well-being of the organization. They are asked to give of their time, talent and treasure. None of these directors gives a rat’s ass about the Hen’s theory, really, but they sign on blindly out of friendship to the intelligent but eccentric bird. The bird then engages in any number of difficult tasks, struggling a few steps up a steep and slippery learning curve, doing the jobs of every person on the board, becoming more and more exhausted and bitter. She begins writing propaganda about how well things are going, sends it out to the board members who pretty much ignore it, while at the same time tacitly supporting it.
One day the Hen has a bit of good luck, a 24″ iMac is donated to her program by the IT department of a nameless corporation. She fires it up and the picture is glorious, the student animations will look so good on it. She pulls one up, it looks marvelous, like watching a movie. First bit of good luck, sign of things to come. Encouraging.
The next day the Hen excitedly brings a friend to see the iMac in action. Turns the machine on, but the screen remains blank. There is no picture, no glowing apple logo like the branded skull on the Jolly Roger. Dead. “Why would the IT department donate something that wasn’t intermittent? One of them would have taken it home when the company upgraded the computers,” her friend points out.
Of course they would have. That’s how the world is. Now, about that cake.
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