Story: Goodbye to Friends

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1

I've always said that when I retire, I could write a book called Best Friends I Have Fired. Even one would have been bad enough, but there have been several.

There was one time, for instance, when I had to ask a good friend to retire or be fired. He was experienced, exceptionally good at his job, well-known as an innovative and inspiring leader. He and his wife were friends of my wife Marie and me both... But he had violated our organization’s clear and unambiguous policy on sexual harassment. We were (are) tough on sex, and drugs too.

There had been rumors about Mark Shapiro for years. Even though I had never received any actual complaints, I had nonetheless spoken to him formally on several occasions over ten years or so, warning him that if I ever found the rumors to be true, he would have to go. And he understood. He was conspicuous enough and good enough that I thought there was just a chance that the rumors had been “fomented,” as he said, by others in the organization who were jealous of his success. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

But in this final instance, when he saw the formal complaint, he admitted the offense. That was a tough time.

But I mainly wanted to talk about Mark’s replacement, Lou Reynolds. It seemed real important for our organization to find someone to replace Mark who was an experienced leader and a creative performer. (A woman would have been great, too, especially under the circumstances.) I had the sense that the organization would decline in public esteem and awareness if we had to settle for second-rate, which would harm our chances at continuing success overall.

We had many candidates, from all over the country. Most of them – including most of the women - were right out of college and totally unqualified. Some others had experience and good recommendations but had no background with an organization of comparable size or orientation, so clearly they were not right for us either. That left only a few for me to call for a chat (all of them men, by the way).

I was visiting out-of-town relatives as the search proceeded. At their dining table one day I tracked Lou Reynolds down on the ’phone. I had noticed as I punched in his number that early in his career, Lou had worked for the same folks as a long-time personal friend of mine had worked for years ago. After I had introduced myself and determined that it was a good time for a talk, I happened to ask Lou if he had ever known a fellow named Bill Howard.

“You mean William J. Howard the fourth?” he replied.

This was a really good start! I said to myself.

While my relatives were off grocery-shopping with my wife, Lou and I had a long, enjoyable, and interesting conversation. Even more clearly than his resume, what he told me about his background demonstrated that his experience was highly relevant to our needs. Our chat revealed further that he seemed to be looking to make a long-term commitment… which is also what we needed. He had a nice speaking voice and seemed like a pleasant person. So I invited him to join a list of two other candidates (less promising, though I didn’t let on to that) whom we would interview in person. Before hanging up, we had it all scheduled.

Three weeks later, everybody in the department acknowledged that all three of our finalists were qualified for the job but that Lou seemed to be the best of the bunch, so he was hired within a month of that first ’phone conversation at my relatives’ dining table.

2

Things started out well on the job too, at least from my perspective. (A few of my vice-presidents were withholding judgment.) Lou and his colleagues were working out of temporary quarters as their regular haunts got a major renovation. Lou was used to succeeding despite tough circumstances and didn’t miss a beat. He was a real “work as a team” kind of guy, and he got everybody to pitch right in.

The results were not revolutionary or startling, but they were fine, despite the temporary digs. Mark Shapiro had been a bit of a loner, maybe even a prima donna, so Lou brought a breath of fresh air into the equation, and within six weeks he had a real synergy going. (The vice-presidents, who tended to be more “top-down” folks, were still cautious, and the teamwork ambience Lou had established was not real tangible…)

When we hit our busy season, Lou and his team stepped right up and gave their customers and clients good value for their money. A few of our regulars indicated that Lou had been a good find.

Once the team was in their newly upgraded quarters, they began to work for a splashy opening. It was well-planned, well within the traditional nature of our organization, and it turned out fine. The v-p’s were not exactly impressed, but it did not escape their notice that Lou himself was a hit with new clients too. The word-of-mouth seemed to be all positive.

3

There followed five or six years of solid, if not spectacular results. Then, Lou seemed to go a little off his game. He had some health issues, even spent some time in the local hospital, where my wife and I dropped in on him one morning and had a pleasant conversation.

He was married to an Asian woman, called “Ellie,” also a professional, whom we had also gotten to know and like. We had socialized, just the four of us, a few times, and in the larger social gatherings that went with the nature of our business, the two wives often sought each other out to chat. (Lou and I were supposed to talk to prospects or dignitaries, not to our colleagues, or we probably have sought each other out too.)

Once, when I was coming back from lunch, I saw Lou apparently saying goodbye to a shabby-looking man in dirty jeans and an old denim jacket. When I asked him later, he said it was a town acquaintance who was a good guy but who had fallen on hard times. Lou had given him a little money to help pay his heating costs. I didn’t think much about it.

Lou’s program was still cooking along all right. When anyone saw him at work, as he was showing a client around, for example, he seemed his old affable and efficient self, but in-between such occasions he seemed to withdraw a bit from the ordinary give-and-take of the regular work week. I chalked it up to health problems, and as long as the results continued to look good, I left it at that.

I had long ago decoded we could trust Lou to help us move forward. But my trust turned out to be a little naïve.

One day when I happened to cross paths with Lou and asked him as usual how things were going, he said: “Not so good today… actually.”

“Oh no,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said with a kind of edge in his voice. We were on the sidewalk next to the staff parking lot. “My car was stolen and vandalized.” He shook his head, looking down.

I didn’t have to feign concern, and asked for more detail.

“Well, you know how I often come back to the office after dinner?”

We had talked about that, how it was the best time to get mindless paperwork done, but then unpredictably, some of the best brainwork got done that way too.

“I was here till almost midnight last night,” Lou went on, “And I stopped at the convenience store on the way home to get a candy bar. When I came out, the car was gone.”

“Ow!”

“Yeah, so the police had to get involved. And pretty soon, in fact, they found the car just a block or so away with the windshield busted out. That meant I had to spend even more time with the police. …But at least I finally could drive on home, and I already have a place putting in a new window.”

“What time did you get home?”

“About three. The whole g-d episode only lasted a couple of hours.”

I pressed for more details. “You didn’t have the car locked, I suppose.”

Lou looked down again and swore: “I left the damn thing running! Just going for a two-dollar snack, after all.” He looked up at me. “I guess it’s not such a good neighborhood, you know, that late.”

“Was anything taken?”

Lou was now really upset. “I had about two hundred dollars in the glove compartment. I don’t know why. No good reason.”

When I told Marie that night, she looked skeptical. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she said.

4

That was nothing to what she said about a year later when she saw Lou’s name in the newspaper.

At work, things had fallen back into the normal routine after the car incident. We were doing pretty well overall. Lou’s team was continuing to contribute. Lou himself was by now a favorite among the staff generally. He was modest, friendly, self-confident, and he liked a good joke too. He had a pleasant, bold voice and a friendly way of speaking.

So it was really something when Marie read, aloud to me at the breakfast table, a brief item from the police report: “Lou Reynolds of _____ (the little town ten miles away where Lou and Ellie lived), for assault.” Lou was said to have forcibly restrained Ellie, causing her injury.

When I got to the office that morning, Lou was waiting for me. His eyes were a little watery and irritated, but otherwise he seemed okay. “I need to tell you something,” he said, looking toward me but not directly at my face.

“I saw something in the paper,” I said as we sat down together. “I couldn’t believe it.”

“Joe,” he said, “I don’t know what happened. I just snapped. I became somebody else. This has never happened to me. The doctor said I probably needed anger management counseling.”

“So you were actually arrested?”

“Yes, I have to go to court tomorrow morning.”

“What exactly happened?” I asked.

“Ellie has been upset with me for a long time,” he said. “Maybe she’s right, but… She doesn’t like my giving Wendell money here and there, to help him get by. She doesn’t like him.” He looked up, “You met Wendell one time, didn’t you?”

“Well, I saw him anyway. That must have been close to a year ago.”

“He just can’t seem to get a break,” Lou said. “Anyway, we were arguing about that and Ellie was storming around. I took her by both arms and sat her down on a chair, hard, so I could talk for a change,” he may have been reliving that part. “She said I hurt her and called the police.”

“You were there when they came?” That surprised me.

“I started to leave, but I came back and waited for them. Ellie locked herself in the bathroom. I let the police in, actually.”

Lou told me later that week that Ellie had calmed down and the judge was requiring him to go to a counselor, right there in his little village.

5

Again, things returned to the routine. I had told Lou he had to keep me informed on how things were going in his private life, since there seemed to be potential there for public scandal. He told me that his counselor’s advice was promising, things were going pretty well with Ellie, he was feeling more himself than he had in a long while.

And then, the real problem began to surface.

Late one afternoon, I received a telephone call from a local police officer. She said she was off-duty and it was not exactly according to protocol that she was calling me, and she needed for me to keep the conversation confidential. I didn’t think we had anything to lose, so I said I would.

“Your organization means a lot to the community,” she said, “and I wouldn’t want your reputation to get harmed. So I’m calling just with a head’s-up for you. Okay?”

“Right, sure,” I said with some alarm. “I appreciate your calling.”

“It could be nothing, you understand. And I hope you won’t do anything, but I thought you should know that we have identified several individuals to be watching, for maybe dealing drugs.”

“Oh my god.” Now, I was concerned for real.

“Now it may be nothing, but one of your department heads has been observed coming and going from one of the residences we have under watch. Lou Reynolds. It’s a house on ________ street (naming a location not far from our place, near that convenience store). You know who I mean?”

“Lou is doing quite well with us,” I said cautiously.

“Well, it really could be nothing,” she said. “And I will really be in trouble if you say anything to him, you know. I just thought you might want to keep an eye on him.”

“I certainly will, but I won’t spook him, I promise. I appreciate the call.”

6

Lou can’t be doing drugs, can he? I asked myself more than once. My friend, good ol’ likeable, reliable Lou?

We often ran into each other in the parking lot before or after lunch. So it didn’t seem unnatural when I was just getting out of my car when Lou drove in a little before 1:00 the next day. (I had been waiting about 15 minutes, to be honest.)

We greeted each other, and I said, “So, Lou, how’s it going with that friend of yours you mentioned a while back? Wendell, was it?”

“Well, I doubt he’s just turned it all around, you know,” Lou did not seem on guard or any other way unnatural. “But for Ellie’s sake, I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Does he live pretty close to us here?” I asked as we walked along together.

“Yeah, that’s right. But I told him right from the beginning not to be hanging around the shop.”

“I appreciate that, Lou. Anyway, have a good day, okay?”

I realized then that I hadn’t asked the police officer how long ago was their last observation of Lou at the house in question. But it didn’t seem reasonable to think it was way back before he started getting counseling. Lou had probably just told me a lie, I thought. I didn’t want to believe it.

I called Lou later and asked him to stop by my office around 5:30. When he came in, I said, “I was just thinking when I saw you earlier, Lou, that I hadn’t asked you in a while now how’s it going with you and Ellie, or you and that counselor…”

“Oh, he told me to call him if I had any problems, but I was okay to go back to normal life,” he said smiling. “Ellie’s still mad at me for having spent that much of our money, and she’s right. But we’re fine now that that’s all settled.”

“You told me that you weren’t yourself on that awful night,” I said.

“I became someone I didn’t recognize,” he replied, shaking his head, “…and haven’t seen again since, thank God!”

“Lou, were you drinking that night or doing drugs?”

“No, no,” he said. “Nothing like that. It might have made more sense if I had. But no…”

“I hope you understand that I am asking as a friend who is concerned…” He nodded. “But I’ve also got my responsibilities here.”

“I know, Joe. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“We have to be very strict about drugs,” I went on. “I let people go whose involvement – ”

“I think that’s a good policy,” Lou said.

“ – affects their work,” I finished.

“Well, I don’t get into that stuff,” Lou said. He seemed to be telling me the absolute truth. Was that possible?

7

“Lou, I don’t want for there to be any doubt between us, so I want you to take a drug test." This was two days after the parking lot conversation. "You haven’t been doing marijuana or anything” (he nodded) “so that shouldn’t be any problem. But it would be good to have it behind us.”

He didn’t respond right away, looking interested but cautious.

I went on: “I’ve already had occasion to use an agency over at the hospital that will take a sample, absolutely confidential, you know. And then bill the company. You get the results at the same time I do, within about a week. They send it out of town somewhere to be analyzed.”

“I’ve got – we’ve got - visitors coming tomorrow,” he said simply.

“Well then, why not do it today? It only takes ten or fifteen minutes. Here’s the address and ’phone number. You want me to call right now and see if you could go right over?”

He took a deep breath, looked me in the eye, and said: “I guess so. Let’s get it out of the way.”

Two days passed and then one morning a doctor called. He was from the Occupational Therapy office where I’d sent Lou. “I thought I would call this time,” he said, “because the test was ambiguous. We need to reschedule.”

“Okay…” I said slowly. “Does this tell us anything in itself? Are the results often indefinite like this?”

“Uh well, no, not often. But they are once in a while…” he seemed a bit hesitant, unless I was imagining it.

So anyway I called Lou and said, trying to avoid overly explicit language: “You know that errand you ran for me on Tuesday? Well, it needs to be done again. Indefinite results, nothing to worry about. Can you reschedule today or tomorrow?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, not really cheerfully.

Then after work that day he dropped in. “I didn’t mean to seem uncooperative this morning. It’s just that, well, that waiting room was pretty full that first time and after I waited a few minutes, they just called out in a loud voice: ‘Lou Reynolds!’” He said it real loud, like an emcee introducing the star.

“Oh, crap,” I said, understanding Lou's desire to remain anonymous. Then I added: “You know, they actually do occupational therapy there too…”

“I just asked them, This time would they just say, ‘Lou.’?”

“Ah, well I’m sorry it had to be redone.”

He showed me the spot on his neck in back where they had taken a little sample for the hair follicle test.

8

The next time Lou and I got together, it was about four days later.

“Thanks for coming over, Lou,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, fine. I think we’re perking along all right.”

“Good. Well, I got a call this morning, Lou. It’s important.” I paused and then went on. “Your test results were positive. For cocaine.”

“What!” he burst out. “That can’t be; they must have mixed my sample up with someone else’s. It just couldn’t be. I haven’t ever taken cocaine. Never seen any. I don’t get it, I don’t believe it.”

“I know,” I said. “I know, but we can’t just ignore it.”

“Joe, look,” he looked me over earnestly. “This is me. You know me. I’m telling you. It’s got to be a mistake.”

“Lou,” I said, then after a minute, “I’m going to ignore these results, see? They didn’t happen, all right?” He was confused. “You’re going to have to prove yourself to me, though, you understand?”

“Yes…” he said cautiously.

“I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. See? Thanksgiving is in three days. You’re going to make an appointment now for Monday morning. If you’re not clean, I don’t know what can be done.”

We shook hands before he left.

I wondered if the first test had been ambiguous because he had drunk a lot of water, trying to flush out his system, or maybe he had taken one of those detox things they sold at the vitamin store. I couldn't help wondering, but I didn't ask the Occupational Therapy folks... probably, I can see now, because I didn't want to know.

9

“Now, Lou,” I said following the script I had thought out in my mind over the weekend. “You have been doing drugs, haven’t you? You’ve been lying to me, haven’t you?” Then I waited. I wasn’t angry. Firm, sure, disappointed.

I kept waiting. We were in my office Monday before work, before the next test appointment. My door was closed, and the shade on it was pulled down.

After a very long minute, he teared up. His hands were shaky, and I barely heard him say, shaking his head, “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve lost control. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wendell is your source?”

He nodded. “Ellie doesn’t know I’m still leaning on him. Now and then, Joe, not very often. Only now and then.”

“Once is enough, as far as I’m concerned.” The truth is, I couldn’t believe him even if I wanted to.

He was shaking his head, looking at his hands on the table between us.

“You know our Employee Handbook is real clear on this - ”

“Do you want me to resign?”

“ - It says that anyone who comes forward and says he has a problem with illegal drugs and wants help will be given a chance. That’s what it says.” His look indicated he didn’t know where I was going.

“I’m going to interpret your coming in today as your admission that you need help.” He was still confused. “You’re asking for our help, see?”

“You’re going on rehab now, today, taking a six-week leave of absence. I’ve made arrangements for a place for you over in ______ (a small city 20 miles in the opposite direction from his little village). Unless you want a residential program. That would be half at your expense.” He seemed a little uncomfortable. “Thompson will be appointed as interim head of the department with me directly supervising.” He still did not respond.

Then, “I want to go back to my counselor at home,” he said quietly.

“You can go to him too if you want, but I’m saying you’re going to be evaluated for substance abuse over there today. Then, you will do what they tell you.”

He sat back but remained silent.

“It will most likely be daily sessions,” I told him, “maybe random drug tests. Do you see?”

He abruptly leaned forward and faced me: “Joe, I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Well, you should be… But let’s get you back in form. If anyone can do it, you can.”

Then I added quietly: “I appreciate your telling me the truth today.” We shook hands again before he left.

10

Tuesday afternoon after Thanksgiving, I called the counseling service. Yes, Lou had met with them the day before and had extensive diagnostic exercises and tests. He had come for his first group meeting earlier that afternoon. He looked like a good candidate for progress. But he did need the program.

I reached Lou at home late that afternoon. He said he was doing okay and asked how the staff had received the news about his leave of absence.

“I told everyone that you had to take six weeks leave for health reasons. There were no questions about it. Everyone sends you their good wishes.”

Lou said two or three had already called to wish him well, and some flowers had just arrived.

I told him that when he came back, of course, there would have to be some drug tests and after he was cleared to return, the tests would be when I said, randomly, and he would have to go in right away whenever I called.

He just said, “Okay.”

“I’m going to send you a contract for you to sign, so we can get you back to work,” I said, “when you’re ready, okay?” He agreed.

And the reports I got from the rehab program continued routine for over two weeks. Lou called to say he had missed a group meeting; the other men in that group were all ex-cons and like that, so he had made arrangements to move to a different group, made up of professional men. I told the service I would have hoped they would have alerted me to this sort of change. They seemed to understand but did not apologize.

On the Monday morning when Lou was due to report back to work, there he was waiting for me to get in.

“You’ll be getting another bill from Occupational Therapy,” he said cheerily. “I went on in for the first test Friday.” He seemed proud of himself.

“Hey, good,” I said. “You ready to go back to work?”

That test report was negative, in other words good, so first thing the next Monday I called Lou to say I was making my first random call. The Office would expect him at 1 p.m. He said fine. That report too turned out to be good.

And so it went, things apparently back to normal, punctuated by a random call from me now and then. Once, after having Lou go in for a test on Friday, on Monday I told him he had to go in again. He resisted a little, saying he had work stacking up, but he went.

Then, on Tuesday, I got a call from the rehab agency. Lou had now missed two of his regular group meetings. The counselor seemed very solemn. “I think he has some serious problems, sir,” he said. “We may have to ask him to leave the follow-up program.”

Lou himself dropped in on his way home for dinner that night. He said he and his counselor had had a big argument the day before, and he had asked to have someone else assigned to his case. I asked him what the trouble was and he said it was just a personality clash. This man was the leader of the other group, the one Lou had left, so Lou was trying to get moved over to the fellow who was running the professionals group, which had turned out to be better for him.

“Are you going weekly now, is it?” I asked, “or more often than that?”

“Tuesday nights,” he said. “I’m hoping I can start going only to the one-on-one, weekly, with this second guy. He’s been out of town.”

But Thursday I got another call, from the doctor at Occupational Therapy. “I thought I ought to warn you, Mr. Martinson,” he said. “The second test results are in the mail to you and Mr. Reynolds. They were positive for cocaine.” He paused. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think.

He went on: “I’m afraid there is no ambiguity. He had used cocaine within 48 hours before the last test.”

In other words, after he was tested on Friday, he thought he was free to get high for a certain period. Having to go in again on Monday tripped him up.

11

“Lou,” I told him an hour later. “You’ve had a melt-down. You’ve been missing your rehab follow-ups, and you’ve apparently done cocaine again as recently as last weekend… Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he winced and looked away. “Wendell happened to see me one night and…” He shook his head. “It was only the once, I swear.”

“I’m sorry, Lou.”

In a very quiet voice, most unlike him, Lou said, “I asked you before if you wanted me to resign…”

I couldn’t help taking a deeper breath than usual, trying to stay businesslike.

“Here is a letter for you to sign, Lou,” I said. “Maybe you’d better just not come in tomorrow, until the others leave and you can clean out your office then.”

He signed the resignation letter. We stood up and shook hands, for the last time.

12

When I called him at home the next week, Lou said he and Ellie would be moving back to the Midwest where they had lived and worked fifteen years or so before. Ellie had a sister there, a nurse as it turned out. So we said Goodbye.

Looking back, I can see I was what they call an enabler. But I don’t regret giving Lou every chance. I can’t help thinking he’ll get it together now, somehow, back out in the Midwest. But I don’t expect I’ll ever know.


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