“Don’t tell Kyle I gave you this,” he said, handing me the little card with the code written on it.
Kyle had worked there for three years. He still didn’t have a key.
He was in his fifties, tall and a little stooped, with reading glasses that lived atop his head. He had a big laugh and a bad habit of eating sunflower seeds at his desk and spitting the shells into a coffee mug. He knew everyone’s kids’ names. When Rosa from the front office had her baby, he paid for a cleaning service for her house for a whole month. ShopChairs
He’d come up behind me while I was loading a truck or counting boxes, lean on a shelf, and say something like:
“Brent. Quick question. What would you do if a customer refused to pay an invoice?”
Or: “What if two employees wanted the same day off and you could only give it to one of them?”
