Everyone’s been giving Wilkins a hard time this week, and it’s easy enough to see why. It’s one thing to whimsically contemplate living in a tree, and quite another to wake up one day and decide you’re going to sell your 5-bed pad in St Kilda and move into the first unclaimed tree that crosses your path. Well, I guess it wouldn’t be crossing your path per se. But you know what I mean. That’s what Wilkins said he was going to do in Monday’s meeting.
My two cents? Let the guy do what he likes. He has plenty of cash – I certainly pay him enough – and will have bucket loads more if he sells his house. So what if he doesn’t have much of a plan as to how this will work in practical terms? As long as he gets to the office on time each day without looking like he’s spent the night in a tree, who am I to have a problem with it? Half our staff already shower here at the office. I’m more than happy for my top people to live life on the edge; it gives them a bit of grit that’s all too often lacking in executives.
I like a guy who’s willing to take risks, and take the initiative. Heck, I’ll even hook him up with my personal conveyancing lawyers to help move the sale of his house along. That’s the kind of push people need, sometimes, to make big things happen. Once the house is sold, he’ll have no choice but to shack up in a tree. I mean, he could just buy another house; that’s also possible. That takes time, though, and he could do the tree thing in the interim.
I’ll have to get someone to dig up the number for my conveyancing specialists. Richmond, my PA, should have it – I did fire him yesterday, but technically he’s still employed here so he’s going to have to give it to me. He’s contractually obligated, I think. Now, there’s a guy who didn’t take risks, and look where it got him.