To most, he is the silent type, and on this particular day, in his solitary poll on my insignificance, he let the eyes have it. And what eyes they were: rivet-like, and close together on an anvil-shaped face; steely eyes that served his ego by determining who’s in and who’s out. And “out” I certainly was in a more immediate sense. Entrance to our suite of offices is by swipe pass, the pad for which lies to the right of thick glass double doors, and I was searching suit pockets for my card when he strode past on the other…