Once upon a time, hunter-gatherers lived in small tribes of 20-50 humans. Life consisted of eating, mating, and doing things that would hopefully lead to eating and mating.

There was typically some sort of tribal chief, a big dude who got all the ladies and controlled all the food. Women and food were the primary forms of currency back then.

Despite the chief’s potential ability to hoard everything for himself, he would be diplomatic about distributing resources to the rest of the tribe. Even if food was scarce, it was in the chief’s best interest to feed the other hunters first. After all, if the tribe starves to death, he’s screwed too.

The chief also knew better than to breed with all the women, because sooner or later the tribal children would start coming out retarded.

Just like in early-stage companies, the CEO gets paid last. And for the most part, the leader is on the ground hunting alongside everyone else, because they need all the help they can get to take down those mastodons.

Somewhere along the line, tribes and companies grew well beyond their prehistorically-optimized size of 20-50 members. The CEO had little incentive to feed the foot soldiers, because they were replaceable, and he couldn’t see them from his cushy corner office anyway.

Most humans today will opt to join a large soulless corporation because of the perceived safety it provides. Small tribes were fragile and could be quickly wiped out by disease, famine, or a neighboring tribe. But in times of famine, who eats first?

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