This had been my condition for staying after the integration was complete. Not a higher title or more money, but the creation of a division dedicated to training the next generation of systems engineers and architects. Teaching them not just how to code, but how to build things meant to last.
Thank you, I said. That means a lot. No, thank you, Lawrence replied.
What you’ve built here, it’s remarkable. Not just the technology, but the culture around it. The documentation, the knowledge sharing, the emphasis on quality over quick fixes.
Later that afternoon, I cleared out my integration office. Unlike my hasty exit from Veltria, this was a planned transition to my new role. As I packed my things, Justin Bayview knocked on the door.
Got a minute? He asked. We walked to the small courtyard outside the building. My father asked about you, he said.
He’s retired in Florida now, but he still follows company news. He was glad to hear you were back in a manner of speaking. How is Harold? I asked.
Good, fishing a lot. Justin paused. He always said letting you go would be the biggest mistake this company could make.
Turns out he was right. I nodded, unsure what to say. I learned something from all this, Justin continued.
Value isn’t always visible until it’s gone. As I drove home along the lakeshore, I thought about value, of experience, of care taken, of doing things right the first time. About systems built to last and the people who build them.
I hadn’t sought revenge. I hadn’t needed to. I’d simply moved forward, building something better.
Something that would outlast any individual decision or short-term thinking. Sometimes the best response to being undervalued is simply to prove your worth elsewhere. And let the results speak for themselves.
