For an entire week, I became convinced that I was about to lose my job. My name appeared on a folder in accounting, lawyers kept contacting my seventy-eight-year-old boss Richard, and conversations stopped whenever I entered the room. Richard eventually told me to meet him privately, leaving me certain that I was being dismissed.
By Friday, my fear had become overwhelming. I imagined carrying a cardboard box from the office, surrendering my keys, and explaining to my mother that I had lost the job I had spent years helping build. When I met Richard at a quiet park, I had already prepared myself for the worst.
Richard immediately told me, “As of today, you no longer work for me.” My heart sank, but his calm expression confused me. He explained that he was selling the company after nearly a lifetime of running it and had been given the choice to recommend someone he trusted to succeed him.
