great shape blah blah blah. I was depressed and fused.
WCS for years aed directly to Mr. ell. I was in lio bee
grey eyes. In his pictures he wore a dark suit that ore than my first
car with a white starched shirt with French cuffs and a blue
that Mr. ell was retiring blah blah blah and that the pany was in
respect. "Well Jack the time has e for me to get gone" he said brightly.
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
ge. Corporate policy dictated that we wore suits and ties, even on
Monday m was a new world. I arrived at work at my normal 7:45am. I
face. I had a great w relationship with Old Man ell and this was
of gave me that indication.
rugged looking guy with medium blond hair, ly shaven, with greenish
o be early as I rode my bike and wore my bike leathers. I had my
going to hurt. I sat and talked with Mr. ell and he gave me his normal
Withersby was a London high born and was used to British class crap. I
His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.
office. When I arrived, he was loading his personal effects into a box. A
suit and tie ly packed in a bag and headed to the locker rooms to
VP of IT Services under Mr. ell. Unfortunately, all hell broke loose.
fatherly pep talk before I left him to finish his pag.
From his picture Mr. Charles Withersby was a handsome professional man. A
never met the man but seeing his pictures on corporate unications sort
By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining
Friday' s. When it was just ell we had dress down days on Friday' s but
voice sounding like the cheery, fatherly man I had grown to know and
cold chill ran up my spine. "Jake e on in" Mr. ell offered, his
now that it e dressed. I think part of the reason was that Mr.