A time-tested business model invented by one of Donald Trump’s earliest ancestors. 

Once upon a time, about 1,000 years after the end of the last ice age, there lived a caveman named Usago.

It was the dawn of a new day in Stonehaven—the biggest settlement in the Valley of the Whispering Winds. Usago stretched his thick, rippling muscles and glanced at his wife, Dogerda—still asleep. Her dark hair created a tangled halo around her face.

Dogerda was his heart's treasure. Her gentle spirit and whimsical laughter sang to him like a bubbling spring. Usago smiled. Life was good.

But it hadn't always been so. Usago remembered the lean years, the gnawing hunger and the scornful snickers of his neighbor, Trumbo—a sour-dispositioned caveman who believed in the philosophy of least resistance.

"Why bother building a strong hut, Usago?" Trumbo would sneer, leaning against the crumbling stones of his house. "Why hunt when a bit of scavenging can fill your belly? Why marry when you can …” he winked, “well, you know, they’re ours for the taking."

Trumbo’s philosophy revolved around immediate gratification, a life of minimal effort and maximum, albeit fleeting, pleasure.

Usago, however, believed in the power of hard work. He'd seen his father, a respected elder, build their family’s cave into a warm, secure haven. He’d learned the satisfaction and pride of creating something of value that he could trade with neighbors and nearby clans. And he’d seen the happiness it brought to his Dogerda. He couldn't even imagine the careless, casual existence of Trumbo’s life.

And so, Usago worked. He honed his hunting skills, bringing down the biggest mammoths and the swiftest deer. He learned to craft sturdy tools and weapons, trading them with neighboring tribes for furs and seeds. He built a fire pit that burned hotter and longer than any other in the valley. And he built their home, a magnificent stone edifice with multiple chambers that he decorated with colorful paintings of hunts and family scenes. It was the envy of every other cave-dweller, a testament to Usago’s dedication.

In time, Dogerda bore him three strong children: a son, Urg, with Usago’s broad shoulders; a daughter, Ara, with Dogerda's gentle eyes; and a baby, Ona, who gurgled with delight at the world. Usago cherished them all. He taught Urg to hunt, taught Ara to gather and sang songs to Ona as she slept. His heart swelled with love and pride.

Trumbo, meanwhile, continued his life of indolence. He scavenged for scraps, his clothes were tattered, his cave damp and cold. He flitted and frolicked, from one woman to another, never forming a lasting bond. His satisfaction was hollow and fleeting. All the while, Trumbo watched Usago’s growing prosperity with a mixture of envy and disdain.

"Look at him," Trumbo would complain to anyone who would listen. "Usago, the fool. Working himself to the bone for a woman and a bunch of brats. Tied down by obligations. He thinks he's so clever, building his big cave and amassing his furs. But what does he have? Just more things to lose!"

Usago ignored Trumbo’s taunts. He knew the value of his work, the joy of his family. He had built a life of meaning, a life of love. He was content.

One day, Usago returned from a successful hunt to find Dogerda waiting for him, her face radiant. "Usago," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "our neighbors have invited us to celebrate their latest mammoth kill. It’ll be a night of feasting and dancing and storytelling."

Usago smiled. He loved these gatherings. It was a chance to celebrate and share stories with their community. He looked at his children, playing happily in the warm sunlight, and at Dogerda, her eyes shining with love. Life was perfect.

The next day, as Usago and his family prepared for the gathering, Trumbo watched from behind a tree, a strange glint in his eyes. He had seen Usago’s happiness, his prosperity, his beautiful family. And a dark thought had taken root in his mind.

As Usago, Dogerda, and their children set off for the Great Gathering, Trumbo followed them. He watched as Usago proudly displayed his hunting trophies, as Dogerda danced with grace and joy, and as their children played amongst the other youngsters.

Trumbo’s envy festered, turning into a burning rage. "Look at him," he thought, his heart filled with bitterness. "Usago, the smug, self-satisfied fool. He thinks he's so much better than me."

As the celebration reached its peak, Trumbo slipped away unnoticed. He ran back to Usago’s magnificent cave—the cave that represented everything he despised—and waited in the shadows.

When Usago and his family finally returned, tired but happy, Trumbo stepped out of the darkness and raised his club.

"Now," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice, "I will show the world how stupid it is to work hard."

With a loud yell, he brought his club down on Usago’s head. Usago crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief. Dogerda screamed, clutching her children to her. Trumbo raised his club again. And again. And again.

Then, he turned and looked at Dogerda and her terrified children, roughly grabbing her arm and dragging her into the cave. Triumphant, Trumbo surveyed his new domain, the warm fire, the comfortable furs, and the plentiful food. After gorging himself and having his way with Dogerda, he lay back against a pile of furs, a cruel smile twisting across his lips.

“That,” he sneered, “is what I call the ‘Art of the Deal.’”

The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and their adorable and ferocious dog “Poppy.”