Monolith

There really is no fiction in what I am about to type, because I am relating my existence right here, in the now, to another person that I was fortunate enough to know, back in time.

Larry Abram.

Larry was a Lancashire lad. I believe he was born a little North of Blackpool, around Poulton Le Fylde, Fleetwood or even as high up as Morecambe. I had the good fortune to meet Jim Collins as part of my Canadian experience, and then even more so, but not diminishing my Jim experience, I met Larry.

In life you will meet a few of these people if you are lucky enough.

I have talked to many people who knew Larry, they will tell the same story about the man, that he was a phenomenon, a cantankerous curmudgeon of a chap with a heart of gold. They will wax lyrically of the extremes of his emotional entanglements with the art of engineering, they will recall, with a glint in their eyes how he was a storm of emotions, but a foundation rock of a way forward, that he could argue with you until he was blue in the face but five minutes later, still be the best friend you could ever have.

That was Larry Abram, without doubt the very best boss I have ever had, without doubt a man that I have hated and loved, all in the same day, but in retrospect a man who taught me more in my time around him than any of the other "superiors" could ever have hoped.

You will not meet many people in your life who live by a code of no bullshit and total fairness, and perhaps I am selling Larry Abram short by saying that he exceeded my expectations of what a "good boss" should be, but in my entire career, before and after, he became the benchmark.