ONE SUNNY MORNING NOT too long ago, a dozen or so new hires arrive at the headquarters of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps in Vista, California. They've shown up to a fairly standard-looking suburban office park to be initiated into their standard-sounding roles in liquid-soap production, shipping, and regional sales. But the normalcy ends quickly on Planet Bronner. They park their cars in a sea of solar-powered electric-vehicle chargers and then walk past a company-tended garden, where fruits and vegetables are anyone's for the taking. Inside, they are greeted warmly-and perhaps thrown off guard a bit-by the Dr. Bronner's welcome wagon, a crew of impossibly upbeat humans who can best be described as vibey. These cultural ambassadors, when they are not planning their annual Burning Man pilgrimages, wear tiedye mechanic coveralls and drive around Dr. Bronner's HQ blasting disco from a psychedelically outfitted fire truck. They call themselves the Foamy Homies.
The new hires make their way to a conference room for their employee-onboarding session, where they have been prompted by the Foamy Homies to introduce themselves by showing off their preferred dance moves while a fog machine pumps vaporous clouds into the room. By the time this fresh crop of Dr. Bronner's employees hears from the company's CEO, David Bronner-who long ago revised the abbreviation to stand for Cosmic Engagement Officer-they have realized that this will not be a standard manufacturing gig at all.
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