Every Tech CEO Ranked by How Quickly They Would Abandon You on a Sinking Ship

Already gone. Took the lifeboat. Took your lifeboat. Posted about it.

Investigators later found the lifeboat orbiting the Moon with a single passenger and a Doge sticker. He has issued a statement clarifying that the ship was, in fact, woke.

Politely asks if you would like to be photographed for training data first.

Reaches the deck wearing a hand-stitched samurai-grade life vest. Maintains direct, unbroken eye contact while smiling at exactly 31 frames per second. He is doing great. You are not.

Has already two-day-shipped himself off the boat.

A drone arrives with a Kindle preloaded with maritime survival guides. The Kindle is also sinking. There is a one-star review attached.

Insists the iceberg is actually a feature of an upcoming model.

Hands you a slim PDF titled 'On the Importance of Not Drowning.' Issues a thoughtful blog post about humanity's relationship with water while wading toward a private submarine.

Departs with calm, brushed-aluminum grace.

His life vest is sold separately. It is somehow thinner than last year's life vest. The water around him is courageously waterproof down to one meter for thirty minutes.

Sunsets your row of the lifeboat with a polite email at 11:46 p.m.

An accompanying support article explains that the lifeboat will continue to be supported in read-only mode through next quarter. Eight other lifeboats you depended on are now also discontinued.

Cordial. Brisk. Has a meeting.

Will return to drop off a Copilot-enabled snorkel that confidently hallucinates the location of the shore. The snorkel costs thirty dollars a month and is, regrettably, a seat license.

Audits the lifeboat. You are out of compliance. The lifeboat is impounded.

Departs in a yacht that is technically a managed deployment of the original ship. You will be invoiced for the iceberg.

Pauses to deliver a keynote on the buoyancy of his leather jacket.

Holds up the jacket. The crowd applauds. The crowd is also drowning. The jacket is on backorder until 2027.

Returns you to the office. The office is the ocean now.

Issues a memo encouraging 'in-person collaboration with the seafloor.' Three middle managers are already drafting a six-pager on the new working model.

Calmly addresses a Senate hearing about why he has the only life jacket.

His testimony goes viral as a fifteen-second clip with a trending sound. The sound is the ship splitting in half.

Lists your section of the hull as a 'cozy nautical retreat, sleeps 4.'

It receives a four-star review citing 'a charming, immersive water feature.' A cleaning fee is added retroactively.

Surge pricing on lifeboats. Your driver is 23 minutes away.

He is rated 4.91 stars. He would like you to tip in advance. He is, frankly, doing his best.

Will swim back for you if your podcast hits 10,000 downloads.

Compiles a personalized Drowned Wrapped playlist and shares it on your behalf. Your top genre this year was 'gurgling.'

Cancels your rescue after the second episode.

A press release explains that the rescue did not test well with younger demographics and the ship is being rebooted as a limited series in Korean.

Honestly, she might come back.

Genuinely sets up an orderly evacuation, runs at 40% the power of the competing CEO, but somehow rescues more people. Receives no credit until next year's benchmarks.

Waits to schedule the rescue at Dreamforce.

U2 plays a surprise twenty-minute set on the lifeboat. Everyone is rescued, eventually, into a customer relationship management system from which they will never escape.