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