I saw them again this morning on my way to work--we high-fived, actually.
Two guys, dressed as if they were on their way to a Hollywood movie premier: ironed black pants, button-up shirts, shined shoes, slick haircuts, complete with laptop-computer leather briefcases. They're all business. What business? It's none of mine... (they tell me).
I don't know where they get their clothes, but Darrell and Mr. Wilkerson are the best dressed men in town. Seeing them walk through the parkinglot across from Van Andel, the could have been en route from their Lexus to the Bridgewater building.
Darrell: Killer smile. New collared shirt every day--deep blue, crimson, gold. Walks like he has a million dollars in his pocket--not like he's weighed down by it or anything, but just that he knows it's there. He swaggers, he winks, and if he applied for a 9-5 minimum wage job, someone would probably think he'd be too overqualified (though I'm not sure he's applying).
Mr. Wilkerson: Looks like a 70's basketball player at a press conference. He's go the tamed 'fro, the over 6' stature, and a stride that lets him cover the basketball court in 10 steps. Skinny, healthy, and always matching--his pants, his shirt, his socks and shoes, and his swaggering partner.
I can't figure out what they do all day, but I have a feeling that after they take a shower and press their clothes outside my office, they just walk around town looking good. And why not? When you're used to being condescended, pitied, 'served', and sometimes avoided, it'd be nice to draw an attracted eye--to have someone look you up and down and say to themselves, those guys have it all together.
Whether or not they do is their business.