I recall vividly when the summons came. On a beautiful Friday morning in the summer of 1991, I was to present myself to the Chairman of the Board of Directors, a corporate tax lawyer whose impressive offices loomed over the downtown court house. When I arrived, I was ushered into a board room where the GM and the chairman were sitting waiting for me. The axe fell, and my jaw followed it: I was laid off. I had two weeks’ notice and was out on my ass. They would be keeping on my assistant, whose smaller salary and year of experience working with me would help to see them through the next season.
Faced with two weeks to ponder my legacy to the company, I realized that it was more important to me that they survive than it was to express my outrage at being dumped so unceremoniously. I built a detailed work plan to get them through the coming tour, and left careful instructions to help them manage their media and public relations campaigns.
Sadly, the company only survived one more year before the doors closed forever. The company scattered to the winds, and the building was taken down shortly after that. All we have left are the memories – and some pretty great tour posters, if I do say so myself.
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