The launch of Fish Direct? was a travesty. They’d been open all morning and had made a grand total of zero sales. Morale was low, particularly among the delivery drivers, who were paid on a per delivery basis. Sidecar motorcycles lined the driveway as discontent grew amongst the team.

  “I give them one more day,” said a disgruntled delivery driver. “If it pick up, maybe I stay.”

  Back home, he’d been a leading rocket scientist, but as an immigrant, he didn’t have the luxury of job choice. So, disgruntled delivery driver was his best bet. He could always build rockets in his spare time with the money he wasn’t earning.

  From his office, Gary surveyed the scene. The reclining workers. The complete lack of sales.

  Marketing will fix this, he thought. And right on cue, his saviours arrived.

  Synergy & Sons were here, and they came bearing gifts. Trays upon trays of artisanal hors d’oeuvres—canapés, organic crisps, a charcuterie board, and a premium selection of hand-thawed glacier waters.

  What Gary didn’t know was that they’d already billed for every last ‘gift.’

  Trenton Veneer gave the impression of genius. From his bespoke suit to his perfectly coordinated cravat, he looked every bit the artist. But in truth, every inch of his carefully curated persona was part of the con.

  As Trenton glided effortlessly into the room, Gary couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of his entourage. There were ten of them in total. And when Trenton spoke, they nodded.

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  The Sycophantic Nodding Division of Synergy & Sons featured ten of the country’s most prominent and convincing nodders. These were the elite—trained from birth to nod at even the most uninspiring, pie-in-the-sky ideas.

  Without them, Trenton Veneer was just a man spitting nonsense.

  But with them? Even the shittiest, most half-baked spitball sounded prodigious.

  Not even the presence of fishmen could put them off their game.

  “The way I see it,” proclaimed Trenton Veneer. “This isn’t a failure.”

  Aggressive nodding.

  “It’s an alignment problem.”

  Quizzical nodding.

  “The public are aligned with the old ways, and what we have here… is a revolution!”

  Furious nodding.

  Even Gary got caught up in the sheer volume of nodding and found himself subconsciously following suit.

  “I’m gonna ask a question that will set in motion our entire strategy going forward.”

  Ominous nodding.

  “Tell me, what is your core differentiator?”

  “Our what now?” said Gideon.

  “What makes you unique?”

  “We are fishmen!” Greg announced. “Rulers of the deep, controllers of the sea, and every creature in it.”

  “Interesting, yes. And when you catch the fish? Are there any techniques I should be aware of? Line caught? Ethically sourced? Something we can latch onto.”

  “We don’t catch the fish,” blustered Greg. “We summon them!”

  Impressed nodding.

  “And they come willingly?” Trenton asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “It is!” said Gary. “And they do!”

  “Because what I’m hearing is that your fish are volunteers.”

  Wild nodding.

  “You aren’t hunting them or hooking them. You’re providing them with an opportunity.”

  By now, Gary was nodding harder than the entire division. Then, Trenton dropped the slogan.

  “How about this?” he said as the nods reached a deafening crescendo. “Seafood with Enthusiastic Consent.”

  Holy shit. They had it.