Flying High on Corporate Welfare
Sunday, January 05, 2003
I know we should support United Airlines because it employs a lot of nice Chicagoans. But if Chicago had a huge candy corn factory that produced really awful candy corn and no one ever bought it, wouldn't that sort of be the candy corn company's fault?
United has a lot of problems. For one thing, it uses hub airports, and people hate hubs, because hubs mean fewer nonstop flights and more sitting in O'Hare wondering how the airline can claim the weather is bad when the airport has windows and you can see full damn well that there isn't a cloud in the sky.
And then there is the impending bankruptcy. Even though the airline industry got a multi-billion dollar bailout in the wake of 9/11, United is still losing money at the rate of nine million dollars a day. John Green Incorporated could afford to lose nine million dollars a day for about seven seconds, so I've got a tough time feeling sympathy for United. On December 2, United has a $375 million bill coming due. They've talked several employee unions into accepting steep pay cuts, but no one thinks that will be enough to keep them out of Chapter 11, so United is asking the federal government to loan them two billion bucks.
I don't know why United's executives are even worried. In the armada of American business, the captain never goes down with his ship. He floats away on a lifeboat made of laminated hundred-dollar bills.
But I'm not here to tear down without building up. I'm sure the folks at United have an army of lawyers and financial advisors on the case, but nobody knows debt like me. I've developed a three-tiered plan that invariably foils even the most perseverant creditors. For the benefit of United's execs, I'm willing to share it.
First, feign death. The next time the bank calls, answer the phone by saying, "American Airlines, how may I help you?" and when they ask for United, explain that United recently had a massive heart attack. It helps if you add that the heart attack was brought on by the stress of excess debt. It's also good if you can get a little choked up about it. I've died more times than Lazarus, and while it doesn't always work, it's a more permanent solution than "the check is in the mail." Oh, I should add that if the people at ComEd are reading, John Green is, um, my pseudonym.
If they don't buy death, you'll have to move on to the "why" trick. I first learned this trick when I was five years old, and it's been working ever since. No matter what your creditor says, just respond by asking, "Why?" Eventually, your interrogation will lead to a full-blown existential crisis and the bank will forget all about your debt. An example:
Disembodied Voice of Capitalistic Greed (DVCG): Give us our money.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because otherwise we'll repossess your airplanes.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because we only care about money.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because we have hollow, hollow lives. Oh God. Forget the money. Nothing matters.
In the unlikely event that dying and whying both flop, it's time to call your parents. Look, no one likes doing it, but the humiliation is offset by the fact that it almost always works. In the end, your parents feel guilty. They know that if they'd raised you better, you could have led an airline to greatness. "We should have been the kind of parents the CEO of Southwest had," they'll tell themselves, and somehow, someway, they'll get you your 375 million dollars.
And if that fails, you'll just have to stick with your current strategy of begging for corporate welfare and stealing money from your employees by threatening them with unemployment. Because God knows you don't want to pony up the money yourself. You need those yachts.
United has a lot of problems. For one thing, it uses hub airports, and people hate hubs, because hubs mean fewer nonstop flights and more sitting in O'Hare wondering how the airline can claim the weather is bad when the airport has windows and you can see full damn well that there isn't a cloud in the sky.
And then there is the impending bankruptcy. Even though the airline industry got a multi-billion dollar bailout in the wake of 9/11, United is still losing money at the rate of nine million dollars a day. John Green Incorporated could afford to lose nine million dollars a day for about seven seconds, so I've got a tough time feeling sympathy for United. On December 2, United has a $375 million bill coming due. They've talked several employee unions into accepting steep pay cuts, but no one thinks that will be enough to keep them out of Chapter 11, so United is asking the federal government to loan them two billion bucks.
I don't know why United's executives are even worried. In the armada of American business, the captain never goes down with his ship. He floats away on a lifeboat made of laminated hundred-dollar bills.
But I'm not here to tear down without building up. I'm sure the folks at United have an army of lawyers and financial advisors on the case, but nobody knows debt like me. I've developed a three-tiered plan that invariably foils even the most perseverant creditors. For the benefit of United's execs, I'm willing to share it.
First, feign death. The next time the bank calls, answer the phone by saying, "American Airlines, how may I help you?" and when they ask for United, explain that United recently had a massive heart attack. It helps if you add that the heart attack was brought on by the stress of excess debt. It's also good if you can get a little choked up about it. I've died more times than Lazarus, and while it doesn't always work, it's a more permanent solution than "the check is in the mail." Oh, I should add that if the people at ComEd are reading, John Green is, um, my pseudonym.
If they don't buy death, you'll have to move on to the "why" trick. I first learned this trick when I was five years old, and it's been working ever since. No matter what your creditor says, just respond by asking, "Why?" Eventually, your interrogation will lead to a full-blown existential crisis and the bank will forget all about your debt. An example:
Disembodied Voice of Capitalistic Greed (DVCG): Give us our money.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because otherwise we'll repossess your airplanes.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because we only care about money.
You: Why?
DVCG: Because we have hollow, hollow lives. Oh God. Forget the money. Nothing matters.
In the unlikely event that dying and whying both flop, it's time to call your parents. Look, no one likes doing it, but the humiliation is offset by the fact that it almost always works. In the end, your parents feel guilty. They know that if they'd raised you better, you could have led an airline to greatness. "We should have been the kind of parents the CEO of Southwest had," they'll tell themselves, and somehow, someway, they'll get you your 375 million dollars.
And if that fails, you'll just have to stick with your current strategy of begging for corporate welfare and stealing money from your employees by threatening them with unemployment. Because God knows you don't want to pony up the money yourself. You need those yachts.
