One afternoon, Ken was called into Pud’s office. I was worried. Ken was clever, I hoped he’d keep it to himself.
When he came out he went into the men’s room, then to my office, shut the door, and played the tape. He had recorded Pud’s diatribe.
The only words from Ken’s lips, was, “Yes, sir.”
The speech was idiotic, repetitious, used little words as if a six year old was speaking. The babble went on and on, saying nothing.
“Sherry, I had to literally hold my tongue between my teeth not to say a word. If I walked into a primary school, the kids would know more about technology than he does. Hell, they’d have a larger vocabulary!”
Ken lit a cigarette, “This guy knows nothing, less than nothing. His ideas were either put into practice a decade ago, are ridiculous, can’t work, or all three.”
“Are you supposed to do anything?”
“No, I’m to wait for his ‘instructions.'”
Then, getting dead serious, he said, “Sell your shares… I’m going to tell the others.”
“What about the ‘companies’?” I asked with finger quotes.
“I’ll tell Dougie, the others, and we’ll sell them too….”
“All bills go in Today!” I said as he reached the door.