A Tragicomedy in Four Bank Statements
🎠Act I: The Noble Volunteers
Behold our selfless heroes!
They stepped forward to serve the community – not because they knew what they were doing, but because nobody else wanted the job.
They came armed with fluorescent highlighters, strong opinions, and absolutely no clue what a bracketed number means.
“The account isn’t in overdraft,” said the President confidently,
pointing at a balance sheet that literally screamed ($35,000) in parentheses.
The audience applauded. Someone took minutes. Civilization wept.
đź“Š Act II: The Meeting That Never Was
Chairing a meeting is easy – if you’ve ever attended one before.
But not for our heroes.
Robert’s Rules? Too colonial.
Bylaws? Too boring.
Agenda? Optional.
They sat there like crows on a line – motionless, watchful, and utterly silent.
The agenda clearly read: “Board to present the financials.”
Yet not a peep emerged from the murder.
Only our dear President dared to speak – the same one who apparently doesn’t know that our bylaws, in black and white, state he is to chair the meeting.
He might as well have been reciting nursery rhymes for all the comprehension that followed.
The property manager whispered frantic stage directions while the audience slowly lost the will to live.
đź“š Act III: The Bank Statement of Doom
A simple document – one column for money in, one for money out.
Somewhere in between, our finances went on a pilgrimage to the land of Negative Numbers.
“It’s not really a deficit,” said the Treasurer,
“it’s just an emotional representation of cash flow.”
Eighth graders across the province collectively facepalmed.
đź‘‘ Act IV: The Delusion of Grandeur
Despite not knowing law, accounting, or basic meeting etiquette, our heroes consider themselves pillars of governance.
They quote their lawyers as if reciting scripture,
speak of “fiduciary duty” the way toddlers speak of dinosaurs,
and believe that power itself confers competence.
“We’re doing our best!” they say.
Unfortunately, so did the people who built the Titanic.
🎬 Finale: The Moral of the Spreadsheet
If you can’t read a balance sheet, don’t balance a budget.
If you can’t run a meeting, don’t run a corporation.
And if your idea of leadership is silencing the only people who can read,
then perhaps the bravest service you can render the community…
is to resign.
Disclaimer: This post is satire and opinion. Read full disclaimer.
