The older man remained seated.
He looked suddenly tired.
The CEO closed her laptop.
“How long have you been here?”
He laughed without humor.
“You know exactly how long.”
“Thirty-one years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His eyebrows rose.
“Why what?”
“Why stay thirty-one years?”
He leaned back.
“Because I built things here.”
“Which things?”
“Three acquisitions.”
“The European expansion.”
“The debt restructuring.”
“The distribution platform.”
“I recruited half the people currently leading this company.”
She nodded.
“Good work?”
“Yes.”
“Proud of it?”
“Yes.”
The CEO sat opposite him rather than at the head of the table.
“Then help me understand something.”
He waited.
“How does a man who spent thirty-one years building a company become someone junior employees are afraid to disagree with?”
His expression hardened.
“That is an unfair framing.”
“Maybe.”
She leaned back.
“Give me a better one.”
He looked toward the general counsel.
The lawyer said nothing.
The vice-chairman turned back.
“I am demanding.”
“Yes.”
“I remember mistakes.”
“Yes.”
“I do not tolerate laziness.”
“Neither do I.”
He paused.
She continued.
“Try again.”
His jaw tightened.
“People today are more sensitive.”
The CEO nodded.
“Possibly.”
He looked surprised.
She added:
“But that explanation does not account for why a twenty-nine-year-old assistant was afraid to tell you kicking a brush toward someone was inappropriate.”
He looked down.
The CEO waited.
Eventually he said:
“When I joined, senior executives treated junior people much worse.”
“How?”
He almost smiled.
“You want stories?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the ceiling.
“My first division chief used to throw folders.”
“At people?”
“Near them.”
“Difference?”
“At the time, apparently.”
The CEO nodded.
He continued.
“He once made a director stand through an entire three-hour meeting because the man had arrived late.”
“Another executive screamed at assistants.”
“Coffee cups.”
“Doors.”
“Public insults.”
“That was normal.”
The CEO looked toward him.
“And you hated it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you promise yourself you would be different?”
The older man became still.
Then:
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
He looked down.
The answer came quietly.
“I won.”
The CEO frowned slightly.
He continued.
“I became senior.”
“People stopped talking to me that way.”
“Then eventually people stopped talking back at all.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“I thought that meant I had earned respect.”
The CEO said nothing.
He continued.
“Maybe I stopped noticing the difference between respect and fear.”
The board secretary looked toward him for the first time with something softer in her face.
The CEO asked:
“Did you kick brushes twenty years ago?”
He almost laughed.
“No.”
“Ten?”
“No.”
“Five?”
He thought.
“I don't know.”
“That worries you?”
“Yes.”
The CEO nodded.
“Good.”
He looked up sharply.
“Good?”
“Awareness is more useful than defense.”
He exhaled.
“What happens to me?”
“I don’t know yet.”