The office is empty. The lights are still on. And Bobby, once a proud
co-founder, is writing one last email to the man who built it all with
him. It starts with business. It doesn’t end there.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Last one out
Hey Bruno,
Well, today was bleak. The last employee just took the elevator to the parking garage, and I’m sitting here at my desk. I finally opened that bottle of scotch you bought the executives when the initial public offering hit. I was saving it for another celebration, but a farewell works too.
When we started this business, did you ever see us here? I never thought we would be big enough to have 200 employees. I thought we would always be a small business with a handful of loyal workers, living comfortably and doing what we loved. You see how that turned out.
I want to be clear; I don’t blame you. Not just you anyway. You have been a great CEO—I was just as caught up in the hype. I was right there with you when we went public. I stood proudly by your side when we gave huge bonuses to our staff and took extravagant vacations. This does not rest on your shoulders. I know soon it will feel like it, and if I could lessen that for you, I would. But the truth is, I can’t take care of myself right now.
After we laid off the last big group today, I have been thinking about some of the better times we have had in this building.
Remember that first secretary you had? Kim, I think. She got stuck in the elevator her first week and called her boyfriend to keep her company—proceeded to talk dirty the whole time. She didn’t realize that she was stuck on the main employee floor, and everyone heard. I still laugh about that.
And then there was the time she thought your mother was your girlfriend and booked that family reunion trip. She put you two in a honeymoon suite. Your mom was a champ. You slept on the floor, right? That must have sucked!
I also was thinking about that first surprise celebration you planned for the employees. Your girlfriend at the time got it in her head you were planning to propose—that turned uncomfortable in front of everyone real fast. You handled it with grace, but I know the car ride home must have been awkward.
We sure did have a mixed time in this place. You can at least make money renting space here. It is devastating that our business failed but you are going to come out of this stronger than ever. I know it. You have always been someone who took no shit and never gave up. At least you can walk away knowing your life is still pretty good. I envy that.
If I am being honest, I think I am dragging this email out because I am a bit scared.
Did you know I have two mortgages on my house? I needed to supplement the accounts payable, and I was sure we could turn the corner. Just a little loan to the business. Joke is on me, huh?
I pictured my life differently, even amid all the recent chaos. I figured by now; Wendy and I would be planning our family. Early, partial retirement sounded good two years ago. Some dreams turn into nightmares quickly.
Wendy left. I got home last night, and half of our furniture was gone. No note, just divorce papers, right next to the eviction notice she pulled off the door. She moved fast. I only worked half a day. She can take the rest before the bank forecloses. I sent her an email too.
Well buddy, it really has been an honor. I love you like a brother, and I am sorry I didn’t do better for you.
Compliance was my department and I was shit at it. I hope you understand why things had to end like this. Again, it’s not your fault.
I have always loved the garden on the roof, I think I will spend a few minutes up there tonight. Look at the world one more time from forty floors up—seems like a good place to finally let go.
Have a good life, you deserve it. Know that I am no longer screwing up mine.
-Bobby
