memo'd

Updated: May 5, 2025

He sat at his huge, old fashioned oak desk as Ben walked across the office. "Evening, sir." No response. Louder, "Good evening, Mr. Robb. Mr. Robb, it's Ben, sir. Ben Tilman. You memo'd me to come " Still no sign. The eyes, under the great, beetling brows, seemed closed. Ben grinned and reached out across the wide desk toward the small, plastic box hanging on the Old Man's chest.

William W. Stuart - The Real Hard Sell