Friday' s. When it was just ell we had dress down days on Friday' s but
office. When I arrived, he was loading his personal effects into a box. A
Withersby was a London high born and was used to British class crap. I
fatherly pep talk before I left him to finish his pag.
WCS for years aed directly to Mr. ell. I was in lio bee
VP of IT Services under Mr. ell. Unfortunately, all hell broke loose.
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.
suit and tie ly packed in a bag and headed to the locker rooms to
The news hit me like a ton of bricks though I tried not to show it on my
It was a Friday afternoon in early November. Mr. ell asked me into his
going to hurt. I sat and talked with Mr. ell and he gave me his normal
great shape blah blah blah. I was depressed and fused.
ge. Corporate policy dictated that we wore suits and ties, even on
By the time I returo my desk there anywide email explaining
respect. "Well Jack the time has e for me to get gone" he said brightly.
of gave me that indication.
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
voice sounding like the cheery, fatherly man I had grown to know and
His eyes betrayed some remorse and sadness.
From his picture Mr. Charles Withersby was a handsome professional man. A
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
grey eyes. In his pictures he wore a dark suit that ore than my first
face. I had a great w relationship with Old Man ell and this was
rugged looking guy with medium blond hair, ly shaven, with greenish
car with a white starched shirt with French cuffs and a blue