Chapter 8: Covenants
Whitaker Analytics hit its first hard covenant discussion without my signature behind the curtain.
The bank wanted a plan. The board wanted options. Daniel wanted time and a private meeting with me that I declined. I was not a lender of last resort with unlimited patience. I was a shareholder of my own life who had underwritten his for long enough to expect basic recognition at a public dinner.
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The CFO called me once, carefully, to ask whether my position on personal guarantees was final. I said it was. He thanked me for the clarity and hung up sounding like a man rewriting models through the night. Clarity, I had found, was a form of mercy people only recognized when the alternative was rumor.
Vanessa accepted a job in another city, according to a brief industry note. I felt nothing that required a journal entry. Daniel’s messages shortened from paragraphs to single lines. Please. Call me. The board meets Thursday. I answered only what belonged to joint legal process. The rest stayed with him and the company he had insisted was his vision.
