Her response came back within twenty minutes.
“How about Monday?”
It was Thursday. That afternoon, I submitted my formal resignation to human resources. Two weeks’ notice, as required by my contract. Professional, courteous, giving him time to transition my responsibilities to someone else. Of course, what Thaddius didn’t realize was that my responsibilities couldn’t actually be transitioned. You can’t transfer eight years of relationship-building in a two-week handover period. When I told him I was leaving, he barely looked up from his computer.
“Fine. We’ll manage without you.”
I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I spent my remaining two weeks being the most helpful departing employee in corporate history. I documented every project I was working on. I created detailed client profiles with contact information and history. I wrote comprehensive guides for managing vendor relationships. I organized my files meticulously and left clear instructions for whoever would take over my accounts. What I didn’t do was transfer the actual relationships themselves, because you can’t transfer trust. You can’t document the fact that Janet Peyton calls me when she’s frustrated because she knows I’ll actually listen and find solutions. You can’t write a manual explaining that Morrison trusts my judgment because I’ve never steered him wrong. You can’t hand over the respect I’ve earned from suppliers who know that when I promise something, it happens. On my last day, I cleaned out my desk while Thaddius was in a meeting. I took my personal items, my diplomas, a few plants I’d brought to brighten up my workspace. I left behind all the company property, all the client files, all the business records. I wasn’t stealing anything. I was just no longer available to be the invisible infrastructure holding everything together. I shook hands with my colleagues, hugged a few of the people I’d worked closely with, and walked out at exactly five o’clock on Friday afternoon. Monday morning, I started my new position as Elena’s partner at Voss Associates. We’d restructured the partnership so I’d have equity and decision-making authority from day one. My new office had windows that actually opened, a coffee machine that worked, and a partner who valued competence over ego. By Tuesday, my old phone number was disconnected and forwarded to a generic company voicemail. By Wednesday, things at Thaddius’s company started getting interesting. Janet Peyton called the main office looking for me. The receptionist transferred her to Thaddius, who had no idea why she was calling or what project she was referring to. Janet hung up confused and called Morrison Tech’s CEO to ask if he knew what was going on. Morrison called the office Thursday morning with a question about an upcoming campaign launch. Thaddius took the call personally, trying to sound knowledgeable, but it became obvious within five minutes that he didn’t understand the details of his own company’s project. Morrison asked to speak with someone who was actually familiar with his account. There wasn’t anyone. By Friday of that first week, three more major clients had called with questions or concerns and received similarly unhelpful responses. Two vendors called about late payments that I would normally have processed. The IT support company showed up for a scheduled maintenance visit that Thaddius had forgotten was happening. I know all this because people started calling me directly, not to complain about Thaddius exactly, but to ask if I knew what was happening. Janet Peyton tracked down my new number through a mutual contact and called to congratulate me on my new position. During that conversation, she mentioned how strange it was that my old company suddenly seemed so disorganized.
“It’s like they forgot how to do business,” she said. “Nobody there seems to know what’s going on anymore.”
I listened sympathetically, but didn’t offer any explanations. What was I supposed to say? That Thaddius had spent eight years taking credit for work he couldn’t actually do himself? The second week was when the real problems started. One of their biggest suppliers, the printing company I’d worked with for years, called about an overdue payment. Thaddius apparently got defensive and rude, suggesting they should be more patient about money. Jameson, the owner, called me that afternoon.
“Cordelia, I don’t know what’s happening over there, but that’s not how we’re used to being treated. If this is how they want to do business going forward, we might need to reconsider our relationship.”
I maintained my professional boundaries.
“That sounds like a conversation you should have with them directly, Jameson. I’m not involved with their business anymore.”
