respect. "Well Jack the time has e for me to get gone" he said brightly.
now that it e dressed. I think part of the reason was that Mr.
From his picture Mr. Charles Withersby was a handsome professional man. A
Withersby was a London high born and was used to British class crap. I
suit and tie ly packed in a bag and headed to the locker rooms to
voice sounding like the cheery, fatherly man I had grown to know and
fatherly pep talk before I left him to finish his pag.
Friday' s. When it was just ell we had dress down days on Friday' s but
of gave me that indication.
His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.
going to hurt. I sat and talked with Mr. ell and he gave me his normal
It was a Friday afternoon in early November. Mr. ell asked me into his
The news hit me like a ton of bricks though I tried not to show it on my
that Mr. ell was retiring blah blah blah and that the pany was in
VP of IT Services under Mr. ell. Unfortunately, all hell broke loose.
grey eyes. In his pictures he wore a dark suit that ore than my first
rugged looking guy with medium blond hair, ly shaven, with greenish
WCS for years aed directly to Mr. ell. I was in lio bee
car with a white starched shirt with French cuffs and a blue
ge. Corporate policy dictated that we wore suits and ties, even on
o be early as I rode my bike and wore my bike leathers. I had my
office. When I arrived, he was loading his personal effects into a box. A
never met the man but seeing his pictures on corporate unications sort
cold chill ran up my spine. "Jake e on in" Mr. ell offered, his
face. I had a great w relationship with Old Man ell and this was
Monday m was a new world. I arrived at work at my normal 7:45am. I
great shape blah blah blah. I was depressed and fused.
By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining