They’re saying certification needs to be revalidated before departure.”
I leaned back in my chair. “That’s correct.”
“Can you come in and—”
“No.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Virgil,” he said carefully, “we need this resolved.”
“You should talk to Blake,” I replied. “He’s… tied up right now.”
I almost laughed. “I’m sure he is.”
The man lowered his voice.
“Look, whatever happened yesterday—”
“What happened yesterday,” I said calmly, “is your company eliminated the position responsible for maintaining compliance across your entire fleet.”
Silence. Then, quieter:
“…we didn’t realize.”
“I did.”
I ended the call. By noon, Blake called.
This time, I picked up. “Virgil,” he said, trying to sound controlled, “we need to discuss a temporary arrangement.”
Temporary. That word again.
“Funny,” I said. “Yesterday you called it outdated.”
His jaw tightened—I could hear it in his voice. “This isn’t the time for—”
“No,” I cut in.
“Now is exactly the time.”
He exhaled sharply. “What do you want?”
There it was. Not authority.
Not confidence. Need. I looked out at the river.
At the life I had built outside of that glass conference room. At the years I had given. And the ones I had missed.
“I want my time back,” I said. He didn’t understand. “Be specific.”
“I am,” I replied.
“You don’t get to fire me at 10 a.m. and need me back by noon like nothing happened.”
“Virgil—”
“No,” I said. “You made a decision.
Now you get to live with it.”
Another silence. Then he tried something else. “We can offer a consulting agreement.”
I smiled.
Because that’s what it always comes down to. Respect… once it costs something. “Send it,” I said.
“Good,” he replied quickly. “But understand this,” I added. His voice paused.
“What?”
“You’re not hiring a welder anymore.”
Silence. “You’re negotiating with the man who kept your company running for twenty-two years.”
I hung up. That afternoon, I went to Caleb’s game.
Sat in the stands. Watched him play. And when he looked up…
This time, I was there.
