Like many people, I spend most of my time fantasizing about plane crashes. Specifically, I like to wonder what would happen if I crashed on a desert island with whoever happens to be in the general vicinity. In no particular order, here is a list of the societies I would form with coworkers from previous jobs I have held.

Conner Prairie Living History Park (Stilt Walker)
We would actually form a working society, except that everything would be grounded in the technology of the 1800s. The blacksmith, the butcher, and the weaver would all have important roles to play and tremendous contributions to make in our new society. When I worked at Conner Prairie, I taught kids candlemaking and how to walk on stilts, so in this scenario I would probably be chummed and used for a stew base.

Tyco Oxygen Tank Manufacturing Warehouse (Assembly Line)
Killed immediately.

Gatorade Factory (Night Shift Bottle Watcher)
Post-apocalyptic wasteland. Imagine “28 Days Later,” except instead of the running zombies it’s a lot of dudes coming down hard off a weeklong meth binge. But on the other hand, free sports drink!

Yellow Pages Group (Copywriter)
I think we would try to form a democracy! But then someone, maybe the libertarian Quality Analyst, would point out that the United States was actually a “constitutional republic,” and really we should use this opportunity to experience governance by the Free Market.

So I guess we’d try to start some kind of economy based on shells and lava rocks, but it wouldn’t take long to realize we had no survival skills. Like, there’s only so many times I can buy three conch shells for a lava rock or vice versa before I realize I’m starving to death and eat a web designer.

Carrier Heating and Cooling (Secretary)
Two things happened while I worked here: First, a lady hate-quit, and my boss freaked out and changed the locks, convinced she was coming back to shoot him. Second, I caused a toilet incident I never claimed responsibility for.

Given my own treachery, then, I would definitely be a loyal subject in the hate-quitter’s matriarchy. I could fashion her a fancy hat from my old employer’s skull.

Cutco (Knife Salesman)
I would pay my manager $300 for my own set of coconuts, which I would then try to sell to other island residents, who in turn would try to sell me a $700 sea turtle. Somehow none of this would be illegal.



Contributor Alex Mattingly is cool as hell.

Photo licensed under Creative Commons:
Dr. James P. McVey, NOAA Sea Grant Program
Helen Island, Helen Reef, Palau. Original description: “Helen’s Reef – a classic desert island – elevation above sea level about 8 feet.”