There's never a dull moment working

There's never a dull moment working for the Wilson Graham Tech Company. Everyone likes working here. A lot of that has to do with the guy who started the company. My boss Wilson Graham Calderwood. Until a few months ago, he was like a tornado, whirling in and flattening everything in his wake, sweeping out old outdated ideas that other companies considered cutting-edge, paving the way for completely new ones, a lot of them his.
But all ideas are welcome here. He considers them all equally, whoever puts them forward. He runs with them, motivates the whole company to get behind them and rewards every idea, every attempt to improve things, every bit of hard work. One hundred and fifty people love working here. One hundred and fifty well-paid happy people.
So what happened to Wilson? Why isn't he happy? I'd like to know. I want to find out why he's destroying himself and I hope it doesn't ruin everything he has built and take the rest of us with it.
I should know what's going on more than most. I work closely with him every day, and every day that I see him hurting and messing up I feel a little bit more for him. I can't help it. I was always the same. My mother would yell at me when I tried to rescue a bird with a broken wing, telling me it was hopeless but at least I tried. I'm not sure what has broken Wilson or how to mend it either. My mother would probably yell at me again if she knew how much I love Wilson, all six foot three of him despite everything, despite him never looking at me as anything more than a secretary.
I read a book about Van Gogh once. Do all geniuses have a touch of madness? Is that what this is, a touch of madness? I'm still working it out.
Wilson recruited me as a rookie girl Friday type assistant straight out of school at sixteen. I must have looked a sight in my trailer park best skirt and blouse but I learned quickly to up my game and not look like I came from the wrong side of town. Wilson never batted an eye when I showed up in his office. He recruited everyone personally in those days when the company was new. You didn't get your foot in the door without encountering Wilson. If he didn't scare you off with his over the top enthusiasm, you passed the first test. If you showed plenty of enthusiasm yourself and some initiative in the interview, you were in.
He didn't really care about formal qualifications seeing as he dropped out of college himself to start the company. It's just as well in my case because I didn't have any. Everything I know I taught myself. Not many chances for me where I came from. Wilson gave me that chance and I'll always be grateful. Now I'm trying to pay him back by watching out for him.
And today I'm not just watching out for him. I'm doing his job for him. I know I can't do it as well as he can when he's sober. He can charm the birds from the trees and no doubt mend broken wings on a good day, too. But today isn't a good day. I'm trying not to remember how I caught him with that girl in his office and how much that hurt. Usually I'm sending girls away on the telephone. He never rubbed my face in it in person before. That should have been the last straw in how I feel about him but somehow it isn't. Though it hurts he never looks twice at me, I don't want him to treat me like he treats those girls. No way. I wouldn't let any guy treat me like that. But he doesn't even want me so there's no point worrying about it.
“Will I do?” he says to me. Miraculously he's on his feet, looking sharp in his tailored suit, thick dark hair tamed, silk tie perfectly knotted, zipper done up. He has done quick work in his private restroom and I smell nothing of alcohol only the fresh mint of newly brushed teeth and a hint of his usual trademark cologne that sends butterflies through my insides.
“You look great. Do you want to do the presentation yourself after all?”
“I have no idea what I was going to say. It will probably come back to me in the meeting. It's better if you do it. Will you?”
“Yes.”
“I owe you for this.”
“Again.”
“Yes again.”
“You know this has to stop, don't you?”
“Yes. I abuse your good nature.”
“Not that. I mean the reason why you need me to be good-natured.”
“Yes that too.”
“Let's go in then.”
He guides me into the room with a hand on my back as if he were the one looking after me and not the other way around. He greets the visiting group with a firm handshake and a ready smile. I can see the tell-tale signs he's not quite himself, but I doubt they can. Then he introduces me.
“This is Corinna, my executive assistant. We have a policy of enabling everyone in the company to do whatever they are capable of, so Corinna will show you what we have in mind for our collaboration and then there will be plenty of time to ask questions at the end. Please take a seat.”
If you had told me five years ago I would be giving a presentation about a major collaboration to a party of visiting Japanese businessmen, I would have said you were being ridiculous, but here I am,