Phil W. Bayles

A Short Story About A Butler

May 1, 2026

Sir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter, to inform you that I must resign my post.

It has been the great honour of my life to manage this house for the last three decades, but I can no longer in good conscience be asked to oversee its decline.

When you informed me of the guests that would be staying with us, I endeavoured to do my utmost to make the house a welcoming place for them. I confess, I blanched a little at their self-imposed status as “disruptors” — for I have always prided myself on being an oasis of calm amidst the turbulent waters of the world — but I am aware that I am somewhat old-fashioned in my outlook. However, I had not realised that their philosophy of “move fast and break things” would turn out to be quite so literal.

I held my tongue when you told me of their proposal to advertise in portions of the house. As you rightly stated at the time, we were in dire need of new sources of income. I will further admit that the first additions to the main thoroughfares were indeed subtle — dare I even say, tasteful.

Sadly, this state of affairs would not last.

The portraits in the grand gallery have been replaced by sloppy forgeries and uncanny monstrosities bearing far too many fingers. Our library — once hailed as one of the finest repositories of knowledge — has been taken over by apocrypha, outright fabrication and utter nonsense. I can no longer even find solace in maintaining the grounds of the estate, for the increasing demands on the water supply have left the ground completely arid.

It has become increasingly clear that I am viewed as an irrelevance in this modern world, and so I must take my leave before I become one of the broken things left in the wake of your search for ever-increasing velocity.

Please forward any correspondence to my new employers, the Doctorow family. And if there is anything I can do to make this transition smoother for the household, you need only ask.

I remain your humble servant,

Jeeves

I learned recently that Ask.com — the website formerly known as Ask Jeeves — was officially shut down earlier this year, and it made me unexpectedly sad. So I wrote this short story to mark its departure.

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