Rooms - James L. Rubart [71]
“Friends, even though Julie isn’t here yet, I want to get started. You’ll have questions and I don’t want to go past noon. So let’s—”
“Who’s Julie?” Shannon said.
Micah’s stomach felt like it had spent three hours on Disneyland’s teacup ride. For the past few weeks whenever Julie had popped into his mind, he’d strangled the thought into silence. And now via Freudian slip, he’d set the problem front and center, making him face the loss in front of his board of directors.
Julie had been a friend and confidant since college. They’d built a company together, had shared years of laughter, sorrow, and success. She would always have a piece of his heart. But he wasn’t even the smallest piece of hers anymore. Another part of his Seattle world sliced off and melted away.
“Who’s Julie?” Shannon repeated.
Micah’s face warmed, and his mind raced for an answer.
His oldest employee rescued him. “I think he’s joking. His original partner in the company was named Julie. She hung on for about two years before she bailed. I started a few weeks before she left.” He turned to Micah. “I’m probably one of the few who even remembers she exists, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, just you and me.” Micah coughed and pushed out a weak laugh.
His head swirled. So Julie had been part of his life for a time and part of RimSoft. So why didn’t she remember him when he went to her house?
“Micah?” Shannon said.
“Yeah, sorry, mind is wandering.” He paused and rested his hands on the conference room table. “That’s one of the reasons for this meeting. I’ve been creating, driving, and sustaining RimSoft for six years now. I’ve taken a total of three weeks of true vacation during those six years. By my choice I admit, but that’s not enough. I need a break where vendors or partners are not along for the ride. A long break.”
He took a long swig of coffee.
“Working from Cannon Beach these past two months has helped me find out what I really value. Now I want to take this exercise a step further. In the end it will make me a better leader and make RimSoft stronger than ever before.”
For the next hour Micah answered questions about his sabbatical.
“How long?” asked one board member.
“Do you realize how this could impact the stock?” another said.
“Software moves too fast for you to take a sabbatical,” protested a third.
“This is not a good move. Shannon, talk to him,” chimed in one of his VPs.
In the end he quelled the board’s concerns and established the parameters of his time away. His two senior vice presidents and Shannon would handle the day-to-day operations. Once a month the three of them and Micah would have a conference call to discuss any major decisions needing his input. Other than that, he would be absent from any and all operations of RimSoft. No phone calls, no e-mail, no communication except through Shannon, and then only if the emergency was significant.
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He crossed into Oregon at 5:30 that evening and stopped off at Fort Stevens State Park to walk the beach and think before arriving back in Cannon Beach. It had been years since he’d seen the wreck of the Peter Iredale. Had the ship sunk any further into the sands of the North Pacific shoreline?
Not much as it turned out. He found a secluded spot to watch the sun seep into the ocean and ask God for desperately needed guidance.
He’d told the board he would be taking a break, but he wondered if God would let him. Micah had been running an emotional marathon in both Cannon Beach and Seattle, and he was exhausted. Weren’t the miles up yet? Couldn’t he give his mind and heart the chance to snooze, even for a day?
After praying for ten minutes, he gave up. God was on mute.
When he opened his eyes, a glossy piece of paper caught his attention. It stuck out of the sand to the right of the log he sat on. It was a magazine cover: Coast Life. The weather had beaten it up, but it was the July-August issue from a year ago.