Body Fat Exchange Program

Some of my coworkers are having a weight-loss contest that spans the next couple of months. First prize is some big money. While I'm a huge fan of office-place contests (see Pie Baking Contest and Chili Cook Off), I did not enter. It's not like it slipped my mind; I am not entering on purpose. I ruminated on it for a long time and came close to paying the entry fee, but ultimately, my personal beliefs keep me from doing so. We're paying people to lose weight here, while we're paying people to gain weight in sub-Saharan Africa. It's an earth-wide game of Fatsos vs. Skinny Minnies with the grand prize of beaucoup bucks, and I refuse to take sides.

I refuse to take sides because there is a clear solution to the problem. All we have to do is ship Team Fatsos to sub-Saharan Africa, and ship Team Skinny Minnies here to NW Austin. Their weights would even out in no time. Not only that, but suddenly Africa would be crawling with white-collar office workers. Imagine you're a simple bushman out in Nigeria, and one day, your tribal color copier goes down. Who can you ask for help? Well, with this plan, they'd only have to look for the portly white people. Want to talk about copays? Bam, you're set.

Those of us who aren't part of the Body Fat Exchange Program would get something out of it also. Imagine that one day you go into work, and Paul, the fatso from accounting who makes your day a living hell, isn't in his office. Instead, the office is filled with oxen. "Whose are these?" you ask, and one of your coworkers tells you, "They're Mr. Mugobanjo's, Bob's replacement. He said he'll give us rides on them later." All of a sudden, you're too busy learning how to skin a panther from the guy to get frustrated about your job. The Body Fat Exchange Program is the ultimate win-win. I don't have any resources/plan for implementing this, but I except it'll come along anyway. You see, most of us really, really want to learn to skin a panther.