THE GO-TO GUY

I used to work for a guy named Rick. Hardest working guy I've ever known. He was at work every day at five a.m. I never knew how long he worked each day because I was home with my family well before he called it quits for the day. Some said that he would often work past midnight, go home for a few hours sleep and then return. I never doubted that that was true.

There was no assignment that he wouldn't tackle and senior management was never concerned that he would not deliver, even with an impossibly tight timeline. He was the model employee.

He was the go-to guy.

I never knew him on a personal basis because, as far as I was concerned, he had no other interests besides work. I knew that he had a beautiful wife and three lovely daughters only because their pictures were on a table in the corner of his office. He spoke of them only jokingly, saying that he rarely saw them, except on weekends. That family time became even more limited in that he decided to study for his MBA on a weekend program at the University of Denver. He didn't feel that that would be a problem.

After all, he was the go-to guy.

Many people, especially his subordinates, envied him and were in awe of the many awards that he had won over the years. There were trophies in a cabinet and pictures on the wall - one with Donald Trump, one with Bill Clinton, one with Colin Powell and one with Jack Nicklaus. Looking at his office it was easy to see that this man had it all. A strong work ethic truly had its rewards.

He only had one vice and it was a powerful one. He lived on a daily diet of fast food fried chicken. Every day for lunch he would venture out to the local chicken joint and pick himself up a box of chicken, mashers and whatever else looked tempting that day. One could see him walking back to his office at about 12:15, greasy bag in hand, heading back to an encounter with this gastronomic delight.

I lost touch with him when I accepted another assignment at the company but continued to read about his many achievements in the weekly company newspaper. Then, one day while I was driving to work, the radio announced that a man had taken his own life by jumping off a bridge. I felt sorry for this unknown soul, thinking about how desperate the man must have been, perhaps down to his last dollar with no family to support him. Perhaps he had just lost his job and had nowhere to turn. I pictured a homeless man, maybe a mentally ill veteran who had taken his life in drunken confusion.

Later on that day I learned that Rick was dead.

The company stood still momentarily. "How could it happen?" asked senior management. He was so tough, so dedicated, so eager to work.

And, he was the go-to guy.

Everyone from senior management to the janitor showed up for the funeral and celebration of his life. His loving family stoically listened to the many speeches, carefully written and delivered perfectly by his superiors. They all spoke of his dedication, work ethic and can-do attitude. About how much he had done for the company.

All of Rick's fellow workers knew how he died but his wife refused to believe it. Ignoring common sense, she ordered an autopsy. The coroner's report of his death was as most of us had suspected. Despite the facts of the horrible ending to his life, his wife continued to be in total denial, not accepting that he could go in such a manner.

Rick had died of food poisoning from a bad batch of coleslaw from the chicken joint.

The guy that jumped from the bridge? He was some other guy.

Readers, enjoy your day.