
Chapter I · 01 of 13
An editorial confession · in which we admit it
The confession.
We broke the economy by trying to fix it. We did it with spreadsheets, sincerely, and with the best of intentions. Reader, we are sorry.
Voice this chapter
Let us start with an uncomfortable truth, delivered in the most comfortable way possible: we broke the economy by trying to fix it.
Not with malice. Not with mustache-twirling villainy. We did it with spreadsheets. We did it with the best of intentions, a handful of Nobel Prize-winning economic frameworks, and a deep, sincere, catastrophically wrong belief that human beings are basically expensive robots who occasionally need dental coverage.
Here's the thing about robots: they don't need to find meaning in their work. They don't require psychological safety to take creative risks. They don't have an intrinsic need to play, to explore, to experience the particular electric joy of solving a problem no one else thought was solvable. Robots don't have that. Humans — infuriatingly, magnificently, profitably — do.
And for about a century of industrial management theory, we looked at that messy, inefficient, deeply human need for meaning and play and said: we can optimize that out.
Reader, we cannot optimize that out.
This is not a book about problems. It is a book about the delightful surprise of solutions. Spoiler: it involves joy. Strategic, intentional, economically defensible joy.
Buckle up. There are eleven more of these.