The contrast with my old job was striking. At Alden Ventures, I’d spent three years trying to prove my worth to people who had already decided I was dispensable. At Horizon Tech, my worth was assumed, and the focus was on how to maximize my contribution to our collective success. For the first time in my professional life, I understood what it meant to work at a company that truly valued merit over politics.
Three months into my new position at Horizon Tech, industry gossip started reaching me through unexpected channels. At a quarterly networking event, I bumped into Janet Mills from Pacific Financial, one of Alden Ventures’ smaller clients.
“Amy, I heard you moved to Horizon Tech. Good for you.” Her tone carried something more than casual congratulations.
“Things have been… interesting since you left.”
I kept my expression neutral. “Oh?”
“Well, let’s just say our new contact at Alden Ventures isn’t quite as responsive as you were. Three weeks to return a call? That never happened when you were handling our account.”
Before I could respond, she was pulled away by another colleague, but her words stuck with me. Three weeks to return a call. I’d always prided myself on same-day responses.
The next piece of information came from an even more unexpected source. Daniel Morrison called me directly at Horizon Tech two weeks later. “Amy, I hope you don’t mind me reaching out. I have a professional question, but I also wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”
“Of course, Daniel. What’s going on?”
“We’re probably going to be ending our relationship with Alden Ventures at the end of this quarter.”
My stomach dropped. Morrison Industries was Alden Ventures’ largest client. Losing them would be devastating. “I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”
Daniel sighed heavily. “Remember how we used to have those monthly strategy calls, where you’d walk me through the quarterly projections and we’d adjust our approach based on market changes?”
“Of course.”
“Well, your replacement, Lily, I think—she missed our last two scheduled calls entirely. When she finally called back, she couldn’t answer basic questions about our account status. She kept saying she’d get back to me with information, but those follow-ups never came.”
I closed my eyes, imagining Arthur’s reaction when he learned about Morrison’s decision. “The final straw was last week. We had a delivery crisis. Remember how you used to handle those? Drop everything, coordinate with logistics, keep us updated every hour until it was resolved.”
“I remember.”
“Lily told us to file a complaint through the proper channels and she’d look into it when she had time. Amy, we’re talking about a two-million-dollar shipment that was sitting in the wrong warehouse. She treated it like a paperwork issue.”
I felt a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle: satisfaction that my value was being proven, but also genuine sadness for the company I’d once cared about so deeply. “I’m sorry it came to that, Daniel. I know Arthur valued your partnership.”
“That’s the thing—I don’t think he did. When I called to speak with him directly about our concerns, he basically told me that Lily represented the new direction of the company, and if we couldn’t adapt to their new approach, maybe we weren’t the right fit anymore.”
My jaw dropped. Arthur had essentially invited his biggest client to leave rather than acknowledge that promoting Lily had been a mistake. “Anyway,” Daniel continued, “I wanted you to know that our decision has nothing to do with any animosity toward Alden Ventures as a whole. It’s purely about service quality. And Amy, the recommendation I gave Horizon Tech about hiring you? Best business advice I’ve given in years.”
After we hung up, I sat in my office, processing what I’d learned. Losing Morrison Industries would force Alden Ventures to lay off at least fifteen people. These weren’t abstract business consequences; these were real people I’d worked alongside for three years.
My assistant knocked on my door. “Amy, Rebecca Chin would like to see you when you have a moment.”
I found Rebecca in her office with a stack of industry reports spread across her desk. “Sit down, Amy. I’ve been hearing some interesting things about your former employer.”
My heart sank. Had word gotten back to Horizon Tech about Alden Ventures’ problems? Was this somehow going to reflect poorly on me?
“The Morrison account was a nice win for us,” she continued, “but apparently, they’re not the only Alden Ventures client looking for alternatives. We’ve had three companies reach out this week asking about our services. All of them specifically mentioned your name.”
Relief flooded through me. “Really?”
“Seems like you left quite an impression during your time there. The question is, how do you want to handle this? These could be significant opportunities for Horizon Tech, but I want to make sure we’re approaching this ethically.”
I appreciated Rebecca’s consideration. “I think as long as we’re responding to genuine inquiries rather than actively poaching clients, we’re on solid ground. These companies have legitimate service concerns that we can address.”
“My thoughts exactly. Would you be comfortable leading the presentations for these potential new accounts?”
“Absolutely.”
Over the next month, Horizon Tech signed four new clients, all former Alden Ventures accounts. Each presentation followed the same pattern: companies frustrated with declining service quality, missed deadlines, and poor communication. I found myself defending the Alden Ventures team even as I pitched our services. “They’re going through a transition period,” I’d explain diplomatically, “but at Horizon Tech, we can offer you the consistency and reliability you’re looking for.”
The most difficult moment came when Margaret from Accounting, my old colleague at Alden Ventures, called me at home one evening. “Amy, I hope you don’t mind me calling. I got your number from Joseph.”
“Of course not, Margaret. How are you?”
“Honestly, scared. There are rumors about layoffs. The Morrison account is gone, and apparently, three other major clients have left too.” Her voice was shaky. “People are saying it’s because you left—that you took all the client relationships with you.”
“Margaret, that’s not—”
“I’m not blaming you,” she interrupted. “I understand why you left. We all saw how they treated you. But Amy, some of us here have been with the company for years. We have mortgages, kids in college.”
The weight of unintended consequences settled on my shoulders. I’d wanted Arthur to realize my value, but I’d never wanted good people to suffer for his poor decisions. “Are you looking for other opportunities?” I asked gently.
“At my age? Who’s going to hire a fifty-eight-year-old accountant?”
I thought about Horizon Tech’s expansion plans, about the new positions we’d be creating as we grew. “Margaret, can I give Rebecca Chin your contact information? We’re going to need experienced financial support as we take on these new accounts.”
The relief in her voice was audible. “Amy, would you do that? You’re good at what you do. That should matter more than politics or age.”
After I hung up, I realized something had shifted in how I viewed the situation. This wasn’t about Alden Ventures’ decline anymore. It was about people finding places where their contributions were valued. Some of my former colleagues would land on their feet, possibly in better situations than before. But Arthur’s lesson was becoming clear to everyone in the industry: when you prioritize connections over competence, you don’t just lose good employees. You lose the foundation that keeps a business stable.
Six months after Margaret joined our team at Horizon Tech, I received an invitation that stopped me cold. It was embossed card stock, formal and elegant: *Arthur Alden requests the pleasure of your company at the Alden Ventures annual awards dinner.*
I stared at the invitation for a long moment, wondering what game Arthur was playing now. Joseph found me in the kitchen that evening, turning the card over in my hands.