Peak Indignity

Lhakpa was used to treacherous travel.

This year alone she’d essentially dragged more than a dozen wealthy adventurers up the side of a damn mountain so they could take a frigid selfie at the top and then sit at base camp, recovering from altitude sickness and working on an apparently mandatory LinkedIn post about what climbing Everest taught them about B2B sales or venture capital or whatever the hell.

All she knew about it was that not one of them ever saw fit to share the part where they started crying around the 20,000 foot mark or mention how Lhakpa, their “rugged local guide” actually “guided” them through the portion of the climb known as the Death Zone by wearing them like a backpack while they sucked on bottled oxygen.

But her journey to this particular Marriott Conference Center was a different kind of treacherous. It was less “taking your life and someone else’s in your own hands” and more “having to deal with entitled airline passengers and people who stand still on those moving walkways on the way to the gate.”

Still treacherous, to be sure. But…different.

Anyway, she was optimistic. Her experience as a mountain guide had earned her a seat at the table for some sort of a new product launch. She was there representing the Sherpas, on account of hailing from the storied Solukhumbu region in the Himalayas. (Technically, those coming from any other part of Nepal are not Sherpas, but sparkling mountaineers.)

It was a proud moment regardless, and Lhakpa was eager to see what sort of hardcore gear was hidden under the dark blanket at the head of the conference room ta—

”Oh what the hell is that?!?”

The big reveal had arrived.

”Is that for…a CAT?

Or a dog!

”What kind of a dog?? My Tibetan mastiff couldn’t fit his head in that stupid thing!”

They’re called “purse dogs” and they’re very popular here…

”I thought we were launching survival gear for crossing mountains at high altitudes.”

We’re launching fashion gear for crossing shopping malls during high foot traffic periods.

With a purse dog on your back.

Or a cat!

You said this would be the next big thing and that I’m getting cut in at 5 percent for participating in this mess, right?

Of course! And it’s for hiking, too, sort of.

”Ugh. Fine. So help me if this ends up sold at deep discounts on some second-rate American website.”

Not a chance.