Billy Monday Battles Nepotism on a Monday

When friendship isn’t

Billy Monday drained the dregs from his coffee cup, let out a deep breath, and logged in at the company website. He paused before clicking through the splash screen that displayed the boss and his two boys — both twenty-something’s — one biological, the other a son-in-law. All three of them flashing artificial, toothy grins.

What a joke, he thought to himself.

He typed in his credentials — grimacing at the thought of another week.

Reflexively, he peaked into his top drawer, confirming a supply of Tums and Excedrin.

How much money had he put in his one-time friend’s pocket over eighteen years? How many secrets had he kept? How many times had he heard him ridicule and complain about these two boys? And now? — pretending to be a happy family?

Billy had told his boss the boys stole their salaries, pretending to work. But he ignored the report, squandering time golfing and chasing women. The boss hid the peccadilloes from his wife — an easy feat, as consumed as she was over-spending her weekly allowance — which she equated with love.

Billy’s sales kept the company afloat. His presence gave the company credibility. He was ready to sink it.

His iPhone rang, displaying the oldest son’s number. Billy let it ring twice more. “Morning,” he said.

“Billy… I certainly hope you’re having a blessed… Monday!”

“Mmm hmm.” Billy pictured the boy’s self-satisfied sneer.

“Dad wants me to have you come in to the office this morning. Seems he doesn’t feel he’s getting his money’s worth from your ‘work from home’ arrangement.”

After a long pause, the too-cheerful voice said, “Billy?”

“Is that so?”

“It is. Sooo, he’s instructed me to tell you to come in. You’re to start with three days a week; you know, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and see if you show improvement.”

Another pause.

“So I can expect you in half an hour?”

Billy disconnected the call without answering.

He felt the pressure building in his temples from a moment that had been coming for a long time.

He picked up the black phone again. Finding his boss’s icon, he pressed the picture. It rang three times then,

“What is it? I’m about to tee off.”

“You’re about to tee off?”

Silence.

“You’re about to tee off and you had Eric call me to come to the office? You have to be freaking kidding me?”

“What do you want me to say? The boys think I favor you too much. Just humor them. Go in this week. I’ll tell them it’s a one-week trial.”

“No,” Billy said.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated. “I’m not going in. I’m a contractor, remember? I’m not your employee. I sure as hell don’t work for your boys. You wanna pay my taxes and insurance, you can have me come to the office. You wanna push me, my next call is to the IRS.”

“Billy, don’t threaten me,” said his boss.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Billy said. “You want to break my contract?”

“I do.”

“No problem, I’ll draw up a severance agreement I can live with. It will include an NDA for all the things I know about your… practices. But I’ve covered your ass for 18 years, so it’s not gonna be cheap. Enjoy the golf.”

Billy hung up.

He spent the rest of the morning ignoring voicemails from Eric and editing the spreadsheet he’d created of his best, most trusted, longest term customers. Billy knew many as friends and not just as clients. He felt they’d be faithful to him.

By noon, he had a severance package together. It included a lump-sum payout of half his annual contract — well into six figures. Billy decided he would leverage a waiver on his non-compete — in exchange for signing a non-disclosure agreement. The boss, his wife, and sons, all deserved each other.

The boss would never pay for a lawyer to examine the document. Billy insisted on having their Notary Public affix her seal to the document, which they’d sign in her presence. And he would insist on an immediate wire transfer before he’d sign the NDA. He held the cards.

He’d easily have six months to build his own thing. Friendship is a two-way street. He’d carried it for far too long, only to realize it had meant nothing but his production as a business asset.

Just before 4 pm, they met to wire payment and sign the severance documents ending Billy’s contract. Gone was all pretense of personal connection.

Billy confirmed receipt in his account and said, “I should have believed you the first time you showed me who you were.”

As a rule, especially for the past few years, Billy hated Mondays. This one had shaped up to be not too bad.