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