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worthless. "Hi Jake" he called out in that soft mase voice. "Oh Hi,
Mr. Withersby" I said trying to sound calmer. "I did not expect to see you
here, is there something I help with." I offered. "No thanks, just
cheg the facility out" he said looking around. He looked at the racks
and walked up and down the server rooms quietly all aspects of
the facility. I followed like a dog in the event he had questions. Walking
behind him I realized he was much shorter that I was, standing at about
5'10. He had a wider build, but it looked like he had a good body through
all the clothes. His arms and shoulders filled out his suit and indicated
well-muscled arms.
"Thanks Jake Mr. Withersby said ahe server rooms to tinue his
site visit." A few hours later I received an email from Emily: "Jake- Mr.
Withersby would like all employees to adhere to strict code of duct
during w hours. This includes proper adhereo the published dress
code." I read the email 3 times trying to figure out if someone on my team
did something wrong or was this just a reminder. I emailed Emily asking if
something happened. Emily texted me on my cell phoh a response.
"Jake, Mr. Withersby saw that you had your shirt unbuttoned and your tie
loosened." "WTF" was my text back. "I know Emily" replied with a smirk
emoti. I sat in disbelief. Was he really that much of a prick?
The weeks went by and Withersby or Charley as I liked to call him in my
head, made my work life unbearable. If my shoes were not shined properly,
if my hair was a bit wild, if I walked through the offi my leathers
before or after ging into my work clothes. It was like he had it in for
me. All I could think was that this stuffed shirt had to go, or I would
have to leave.
My anger with Mr. Withersby and his search for perfe left me angry and
on edge. I avoided him like the plague. I know that when Withersby came to
the US from the London office he left his wife and kids ba London.
Maybe that was what crawled up his ass and died, I thought to myself. In
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