I looked at him.
“If you run the company long enough, eventually you’ll have to make difficult decisions. People will disappoint you. Some will make mistakes. Some won’t be right for the job.”
He paused.
“But don’t use fear because it’s convenient.”
That stayed with me.
Richard had spent nearly a lifetime building the company.
I expected his final advice to be about profit.
Clients.
Expansion.
Competition.
Instead, he was talking about people.
“The company exists because of the people inside it,” he said. “Never forget that just because your office gets bigger.”
I swallowed.
Then he tapped the documents in my hands.
“You earned this.”
Those three words affected me more than anything else he had said.
Not because I suddenly felt ready.
I didn’t.
Not completely.
But Richard wasn’t giving me the responsibility because nobody else was available.
He had chosen me.
We stayed on that bench for most of the afternoon.
He explained the transition.
The sale.
The responsibilities I would take over immediately.
The ones that would shift gradually.
Which clients needed reassurance.
Which employees would probably panic when the announcement was made.
We even discussed how to tell everyone without making them believe the company was about to collapse.
At one point, I looked at him.
“You realize I’m probably going to call you constantly.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m retiring.”
“You have a phone.”
“I’ll be fishing.”
“Fish don’t require airplane mode.”
He sighed.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake choosing you.”
“Too late. Lawyers are involved.”
He laughed.
It was the first moment all week when I felt like myself again.
When I returned to the office later that afternoon, everything looked exactly the same.
