A tragic story of ambition, stupidity, and extremely well-paid managers.
Dear citizens of WarEra,
Today, I come before you not as a successful businessman, not as a proud entrepreneur, but as a broken man.
A man who had dreams.
A man who had money.
A man who clicked the wrong buttons.
And now... a man who has neither dreams nor money. π
It all started with the new update.
I saw the opportunity to hire managers. Beautiful, professional, highly educated managers.
And I thought to myself:
"Why hire one manager when I can hire MANY?"
So I did.
I hired managers like there was no tomorrow.
There was, unfortunately, a tomorrow.
And tomorrow came with a very large bill.
You see, dear readers, managers apparently need something called "good employees" to actually make money.
A small detail.
A tiny technicality.
A detail I completely ignored.
My managers now sit in their luxurious offices, drinking coffee, attending imaginary meetings, and watching my bank account slowly bleed to death.
Every. Single. Hour. πΈ

Naturally, I tried to fire them.
But WarEra has informed me that I must wait 24 HOURS before I can dismiss my newly acquired army of expensive coffee drinkers.
24 hours.
1,440 minutes.
86,400 seconds.
Every second, my managers grow richer.
Every hour, I grow poorer.
Somewhere, one of my managers is probably buying his third yacht.
Meanwhile, I am considering selling my shoes.
And so, dear friends, I stand before you with my hand extended.
Not for a handshake.
For money.
I am asking for donations to help me survive this self-inflicted economic catastrophe until I can finally fire these parasites.
Your donation could mean the difference between:
β A struggling entrepreneur surviving another day.
β A financially ruined idiot being forced to watch his managers enjoy their paid vacation.
Even the smallest donation helps.
Think of it as adopting a financially irresponsible businessman.
For just a few coins, you can save a man from his own management decisions.
Historians will one day study this disaster.
Economists will write books about it.
My managers will probably receive bonuses.
But with your help, I might live to see another day.
Please donate. My managers have families to feed. Apparently, I have to feed all of them.
With tears in my eyes and absolutely nothing in my wallet,
Your favorite bankrupt entrepreneur
πΈ P.S. If anyone needs a manager, I have several available. Unfortunately, they're legally required to financially destroy me for another 24 hours.
P.P.S. I have learned an important lesson: Never hire someone whose salary is higher than your entire business income.
P.P.P.S. Donations are welcome. Financial advice is no longer necessary. The damage is done. π