When A CEO Farts in The Boardroom, What Should He Do Next?

¶I saw a joke the other day about a lady who let out a pesky fart while shopping in a luxury jewelry store and had prayed that no one had noticed.

Moments later, as a cover up move, she beckoned to the salesman nearby.

“Good day, Madam. How may I help you today?” asked the salesman in a very professional tone.

“Sir,” she said, “what is the price of this diamond bracelet?”

The salesman replies, “Madam, if you farted just looking at it, you're going to shit when I tell you the price!”

In my childhood, my greatest excitement was to go spend the ‘summer holiday’ at my late Great Uncle’s in the village. My childhood Disney, if you like. I was named after my Uncle and we were so fond of each other.

My big Uncle was a titled man, a healer, much respected and feared at the same time. He had nine wives and nearly 50 children. He was very wealthy in agrobusiness and real estate.

In brief, he was boss.

Can One Fart His Way to the Top?

I will come back to my Uncle but I have had two notorious fartcidents (= fart + accidents) that nearly ruined my career. I blush to tell them.

There are three chronic problems with unexpected farts. One is that, unlike your car radio, you can never accurately predict their output volume.

The other annoying thing about these unexpected farts is their terrible sense of urgency. It's pointless to attempt to negotiate with a fart that is determined to come out.

Third, farts do not care about their environment of delivery. Their ways are not your ways. Every fart has its own swag.

Irresponsible farts have escaped in every imaginable place from the dining room, bedroom ( my wife’s favorite fart delivery location), classroom, boardroom, hospital room, hotel room, … all the way to highly dignified places such as the Oval Office. There are no fart-free zones on the planet.

Credible statistics have it that the average car is farted in between 1,500 and 5,000 per year. Future cars, I’m told, will come with elegant fartometers.

I should have seen my first fartcident coming. The exam was 3 p.m. About two hours prior, I went to the then famous Uniny Restaurant just outside the University of Port Harcourt Campus - - and ate beans!

Midway into the difficult exam, when you could hear a feather touch the ground, my stomach stirred. “It’s a lie!” I exclaimed under my breath. Not here, not now, O fart … please!

The gas production was unusually rapid because in no time, my gastric cash flow (aka bloating) was perfect. Charles and Boyle’s Laws struggled for the control of my stomach.

It was no use cursing the bean meal. I was experienced enough to know that the fart would have its way. The only available strategy was damage control, especially given that we wrote the exam sitting on a hard wooden bench. Wooden bench, unlike respectable sofa, is not sound proof.

So, I lifted my behind to an angle of 33.7 degrees, just high enough not to arouse suspicion. Besides, I had calculated by the Laws of Aerodynamics that 33.7 degrees was the optimal angle of minimal impact for rogue farts.

Then, as cautiously as a soldier creeping through enemy lines dead at night , I let go, trusting the universe for a perfect silent and anonymous delivery.

Not so, sadly. What followed was something that began like a mild clarinet, crescendoed as fire crackers, and cadenced as a war trumpet.

Have you experienced that moment when you wished the ground could open up and hide you? Muffled laughter gave way to roaring versions that momentarily disrupted the exam. Even the hard faced invigilator loosened his facial muscles in the fray.

Farting On A Higher Level, Literally

The second was in the aircraft. Breaking a smelly wind 30,000 feet above sea level is not something you want to put in your resume. Trust me. I tell you from first hand experience.

Farting in the sky is torture. Not one bit for the captive audience you are farting for. For yourself. First, you start sniffing your wind like a dog checking out an unfamiliar recipe. Then follow the childlike internal dialogues with yourself.

“Does this thing smell?” “Gosh, what is the lady beside me thinking about me?” “Does she perceive the odor too?” “Wait, did her face just twitch … gosh?” “Wait a minute … are the people in the row behind chuckling?” “Could it be me?” “Could they be discussing my fart?” “Gosh, what have I done to myself?” And so on.

So, it was after a sumptuous swallow dinner and my Great Uncle reclined in his royal chair. Several of us children and two or three wives were in his ngidi (special parlor) including a few visitors. Without warning, he let out a majestic, Olympic grade fart that would make the thunder green with envy!

I thought someone would laugh. No, it was, as I discovered moments later, a haloed moment. It was your privilege to experience such rare moments from the boss.

“Okaji -iiiiiiiiii!” chorused everyone.

It turned out, in our culture, that when an important man broke the wind, you praised him by calling out his chieftaincy title!

Whenever your boss farts in the boardroom, don’t laugh. Remember this story. Tell him how gifted and knowledgable he is in the matters of ‘natural gas.’

CEO Suicides

But what should the CEO do right after he has broken the wind in the middle of an important meeting? I don’t know. Maybe … just flow with it. The story may live for a while. But it will pass.

Actually, I was not really talking about farts. I am speaking to a very serious issue. What do you do with yourself after you have committed a shame-laden blunder?

I just did a Google search of CEO suicides. It returned 439,000 results. Houston, we have a problem!

The latest executive suicide that rocked the business world was that of the former CEO of Zurich Insurance, Martin Senn. His case may, perhaps, have been due to stress. But there are many lesser known cases of executives who snap unexpectedly and take their own lives. It happened with a Nigerian executive a few weeks ago. He could not handle shame. But suicide throws up more problems for the people you care about than dealing whatever blunder you may have committed in an empowered way.

What do you do next? Admit your humanity. Seek help - we all need mental hygiene. Be kind to yourself. There is nothing on earth that cannot be negotiated. And there is nothing on earth worth taking one’s life. Nothing. There is nothing on earth that cannot heal.

Like a fart, every executive blunder will pass.

By the way, don’t you look at me silly with that holier-than-thou attitude. You’re in this gas war too! Go ahead share your remarkable fartcidents right below the comments here!