little holes of light

Ugh. 

Tim isn’t sticking around.  I’m so, so bummed out.  I knew he was making his decision this week about whether or not to accept our company’s offer to come on board as our COO and continue the magic, but I never really considered the possibility that he would say no.  But he did - He didn’t pick us, and as ridiculous as it is, I feel like the kid whose parent can’t make it to the championship game.  What do you mean you’re not going to be there?  You HAVE to be there. 

 

I don’t want to sound like Tim was cavalier about his decision because, honestly, he was anything but.  It was very clear that this had been an agonizing choice for him and he was as bummed out about it as I was.  And boy, am I bummed.

I’m going to try to put words to how I’m feeling because the immediate response of those close to me indicates that people don’t really understand why I’m so upset.  With the exception of one (who also gets other ridiculous things about me when no one else seems to), most of my friends and family have responded with something to the effect of “Oh that’s a shame.  I know you really liked him.”  No, people, you don’t get it.  It’s more than really liking him.  He is brilliant (If I could comfortably cuss in this blog, I would add a modifier to that). 

I learned more from Tim in the two months he was on board than I did working for anyone ever.  Yes, I tend to speak in superlatives and occasionally exaggerate, but in this instance – that’s the honest truth.  People learn in very different ways, and people teach in very different days.  I learn in the way Tim teaches, and I didn’t even know it until I met him.

And you probably want to know how… and I don’t know that I can adequately describe it.  Perhaps if I tell a story or two from Tim, you might start to get it.  One afternoon, after a project status meeting that brought a few “issues” to light, I was sitting around the table with Tim and one of the founders of the company discussing our next course of action.  The founder and I are a lot alike.  We like to do more than we like to talk about it.  We like to make a decision, and then act.  Tim was urging us to flush out a Plan B option, but both the founder and I were adamant our Plan A option would work just fine, and we wanted to get to work immediately implementing Plan A.  We didn’t have time to discuss a Plan B.  So Tim nonchalantly began to tell us a story…

I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a helicopter (Actually, no – he didn’t start that way.  That would be a bit elitist, and whether intended or not, it sounds condescending.  He would never start that way). 

Helicopters are incredibly noisy.  When you’re on one, you have to wear these noise canceling headphone things, and they really work.  You can’t hear a thing.  I was on a helicopter in the military, and I was standing next to my commanding officer, and I was… well – I don’t know what my rank was, but I was a minion.  Anyway, we were coming into the beach, when we began seeing little holes of light in the side of the helicopter.  And it was the strangest thing because we couldn’t hear anything, but we were being shot at.  Then, as I was looking at the holes trying to make sense of what was happening, there was red everywhere.  He [the commanding officer] was dead.  And now I was in charge.  That’s why you always want to have a Plan B.

I am really, really going to miss working with him.