单选题 Fifteen years ago, I entered the Boston Globe, which was a temple to me then. It wasn"t easy getting hired. But once you were there, I found, you were in.
Globe jobs were for life-guaranteed until retirement. For 15 years I had prospered there—moving from an ordinary reporter to foreign correspondent and finally to senior editor. I would have a lifetime of security is I struck with it. Instead, I had made a decision to leave. I entered my boss"s office. Would he rage? I wondered. He had a famous temper. "Matt, we have to have a talk," I began awkwardly. "I came to the Globe when I was twenty-four. Now I"m forty. There"s a lot I want to do in life. I"m resigning." "To another paper?" He asked. I reached into my coat pocket, but didn"t say anything. I handed him a letter that explained everything. It said that I was leaving to start a new media company. We were at a rare turning point in history. I wanted to be directly engaged in the change. "I"m glad for you," he said, quite out of my expectation. "I just came from a board of directors meeting and it was seventy-five percent discouraging news. Some of that we can deal with. But much of it we can"t, " he went on. "I wish you all the luck in the world," he concluded. "And if it doesn"t work out, remember, your star is always high here."
Then I went out of his office, walking through the newsroom for more good-byes. Everybody was saying congratulations. Everybody—even though I"d be risking all on an unfamiliar venture: all the financial security I had carefully built up.
Later, I had a final talk with Bill Taylor, chairman and publisher of the Boston Globe. He had turned the Globe into a billion-dollar property. "I"m resigning, Bill, "I said. He listened while I gave him the story. He wasn"t looking angry or dismayed either. After a pause, he said, "Golly, I wish I were in your shoes."