The Bigwigs and the Polygraph

Everything was almost ready. Earlier in the month, Julie boldly stepped into the spotlight. Out of all the management associates, she agreed to create a fun icebreaker and a comical skit for the big yearly meeting. Members of the board and the principal executives were to fly in from all points of the compass and provide cheerleading leadership for the remainder of the fiscal year. Because the company was booming and had many reasons to celebrate, Julie was hoping to break the mold of conventional stale meetings and bring something memorable to the forefront of the annual conference.

The meeting was set for early August at an ultra-posh hotel on an island in southwest Florida. Because the weather forecast indicated tropical sun or torrential downpours, Julie set her focus on indoor venues with powerful air-conditioning.

Because the meeting was to include the major stockholders and the most elite of the company board members and executives, Julie was nervous. She was, however, not afraid to step outside of the box and enter a brave new territory. As almost everyone understood, success or failure was dependent on innovation, but often, new inventions were not really new, but old ideas that came back into fashion.

When she began researching icebreaking ideas, she began to Google old-fashioned terms for chief executives. “Bigwig” was the term that popped up first and soon Julie began to smile as she scrolled and saw the online illustrations and read the original history.

Apparently, the term “Bigwig” came from the Three Musketeers days when the important men in Europe wore huge, grandiose, and elaborate wigs. This began with King Louis XIII of France. When the French king went prematurely bald, he ordered a collection of extravagant wigs to cover his hair loss and bolster self-confidence.

The new fashion from the royal court immediately went vogue. Soon after the King’s example, any man who could afford a hairpiece wore a wig to frame his face and highlight his features.

In the days of the Three Musketeers and the popular King Louis, the bigger and more extravagant the wig, the higher the status of the man wearing the latest in fashion. Consequently, the business of bigwig production became huge and soon traveled throughout Europe. Well after the reign of Louis XIII, white powdered wigs for men became commonplace for anyone in a position of wealth or power. Even in the present day, the lawyers and judges in England wear white wigs in the High Court of Great Britain.

After smiling mischievously and scrolling through the past and present images of the big hair “Bigwigs,” Julie came back to her project and the task of creating the best icebreaker ever. The idea of ordering “Bigwigs” for the chief executives would certainly be a bold move, but after viewing a few “head shots” of the top three men in the company, Julie was convinced the idea might even flatter the leadership team. After all, the older men were all from the age of rock stars when long and bigwig-like hair was popular.

After she used a photo app to add big hair to all three of the balding men, Julie smiled when she went out on a limb and ordered the hairpieces that would truly emulate the executives as the Three Musketeers or maybe even rock stars. She hoped the senior executives would be flattered by the vintage French fashion and be ready for a photoshoot after the icebreaker. A true symbol of success would be if the leadership team continued wearing the wigs at the company cocktail party.

Even though Julie was confident the “Bigwig” idea would be a hit and bolster morale with a little self-ridicule from the chief executives, she felt the Bigwig role needed something more. The flattering rock star idea was compelling, but she felt she needed a catalyst to spark the showcase event into action.

At once, another image came to mind and Julie finalized her plan. Because Bigwigs always sat on the high court and offered evaluation of whatever was set before them, Julie ordered a vintage lie detector, a huge screen behind the bigwig judges to illustrate the machine, and a random list of attendees to testify in front of the audience and the big hair tribunal.

Julie knew this was an unconventional icebreaker and aggressive idea—that was way outside of the box—but during her research, she had also read the old English idiom: “A faint heart never won a fair lady.” She was convinced, however, that the Bigwigs evaluating random attendees on a lie detector for all to see had the possibility of being the best opening parody ever.

Creating excitement and laughs for everyone in an audience of five hundred attendees was a huge challenge but after reviewing her plan, Julie was ready.

When the top three executives arrived, met with Julie and tried on their Bigwigs; they were clearly thrilled to sport the exciting youthful look of classic French royalty and 1970s rock stars. When Julie unveiled the stage with the lie detector and the big screen to illustrate the findings of the machine for all to see, the three chief executives looked at each other with doubt.

“Does that thing really work?” the Chief with the big wig asked as the three men were scrutinizing the machine and the chair where someone might sit with electrodes attached and answer tricky questions.

“Of course it works,” Julie replied with confidence.

“Then you sit in the chair,” the chief with the biggest wig suggested, “And we will have fun asking about the skeletons in your closet.”

After an awkward moment of silence, another bigwig asked, “How about if we replace the lie detector with some electric guitars?”