By Barry Spud, Certified Fright Leader and Seasonal Compliance Specialist
I have spent years building a professional reputation based on authority, visibility and making people uncomfortable near a noticeboard.
So imagine my outrage when Kevin announced he was dressing as me for Halloween.
“Why?” I demanded.
“People find you frightening.”
Finally, some recognition of my influence.
Then he showed me the costume: a potato sack, a yellow hard hat and a clipboard with NO written across it.
“That is a gross misrepresentation,” I said.
“I’ve got a whistle as well.”
Sadie was equally furious. Someone in accounts planned to dress as her using a pink hard hat, stiletto work boots and a spray bottle labelled EMOTIONAL DISINFECTANT.
“They’re reducing my entire professional contribution to a caricature,” she complained.
“What did you say?”
“I told them to stop enjoying themselves until I’d assessed it.”
We agreed something had to be done.
By lunchtime, we had a licensing agreement.
From professional outrage to professional merchandise
Sadie initially wanted the costumes banned.
I explained that banning them would generate resentment, while selling them would generate revenue.
We settled on banning the unofficial versions.
Our new Spud & Tater Executive Terror Collection™ brings the principles of safety marketing into the seasonal fear economy.
Ghosts get one night a year.
We offer year-round support.
The basic costume costs $199. Certification costs extra.
Kevin asked who certified it.
“We do.”
“Against what standard?”
“The premium package.”
The Barry Spud: Chief Fright Officer
My costume includes a padded potato body, detachable moustache, yellow hard hat and an orange vest with I AM SAFETY across the back.
Press the chest button and it announces:
“Have you completed the form?”
Press it again:
“That’s not the current version.”
Hold it down for three seconds and it schedules a mandatory refresher.
The deluxe edition comes with a retractable lanyard displaying enough postnominals to reach the next house before you do.
There is also a plastic risk matrix. Everything begins red and becomes green when the purchaser signs.
“No actual change required?” Kevin asked.
“Please don’t spoil the demonstration.”
The Sadie Tater: Mistress of Compliance
Sadie’s costume features bright pink PPE, pearls, a clipboard and her signature high-heeled work boots.
The heels are completely impractical, which she describes as a behavioural challenge for the wearer.
Accessories include an empty empathy pouch, a miniature fruit bowl and a laminated instruction to be resilient.
The talking version detects laughter and says:
“Has this been approved?”
For an additional $49, customers receive the Psychosocial Hazard Identification Mirror.
Look into it and discover the problem.
Sadie tested the prototype herself.
“Excellent clarity,” she said. “It immediately identified Kevin standing behind me.”
A frighteningly authentic experience
We invited employees to a costume trial.
One arrived as a vampire. Another came as a zombie. Kevin came as an overdue maintenance request.
Nobody acknowledged him.
“Very realistic,” he said.
I demonstrated my costume by entering the room and announcing an unplanned audit.
The vampire dropped his drink.
The zombie tried to look busy.
Someone dressed as Death asked whether he could work from home.
Sadie was delighted.
“Look at the engagement!”
A worker suggested fear might not indicate trust.
I asked him to put that in the anonymous feedback box while Sadie recorded his name.
Twelve slogans to haunt the workplace
Naturally, no product launch is complete without safety slogans.
Our Halloween collection has been carefully designed for posters, mugs and the gradual replacement of conversation.
- Trick or treat? Complete this sheet.
- Zero harm. Maximum alarm.
- See a ghost? Report a near-miss.
- No permit, no haunting.
- Every skeleton needs a documented safe system of bones.
- Witches must complete broom-specific competency training.
- Zombies eat brains. We prefer them switched off.
- Psychological safety: scream through the approved channels.
- Blame fixes nothing. Exorcise the system.
- Our vampires don’t want blood—just your annual subscription.
- All nightmares are preventable, especially after they happen.
- Don’t fear the reaper. Fear the auditor with a fresh checklist.
Sadie proposed calling them the Twelve Foundational Principles of Seasonal Human Performance.
“Won’t people notice they’re slogans?”
“Not once we put them in a workbook.”
Anyone concerned about sloganeering and propaganda is welcome to attend our workshop explaining why our slogans are different.
The workshop includes a free slogan.
Trick-or-treating, professionally managed
We have also developed a household induction.
Before receiving sweets, children must watch a presentation, declare previous exposure to confectionery and identify the emergency assembly point.
One child asked whether there were nuts.
Sadie handed him the entire policy folder.
“The answer is somewhere in there. Sign to confirm you understand.”
Another child refused to sign.
“What are you dressed as?” I asked.
“A person who asks questions.”
We immediately recognised the most frightening costume of the evening.
Sadie closed the door.
The monster at the end of the driveway
By nine o’clock, sales were excellent.
People wearing our costumes were marching around the neighbourhood stopping games, inspecting decorations and requesting evidence of pumpkin competency.
“I’m concerned,” Sadie said. “They’re behaving exactly like us.”
“That proves the training works.”
Kevin arrived carrying his empty maintenance folder.
“Do you know why people wanted to dress as you?”
“Professional admiration?”
“Because you can turn any ordinary situation into something terrifying.”
I considered this carefully.
Then I added his testimonial to the sales page.
Spud & Tater: Why pretend to be a monster when you can become a consultant?
brhttps://safetyrisk.net/trick-or-audit-barry-and-sadie-become-halloween-costumes/
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