NAPLES, Florida. Charles “Chuck” Wermer grew used to the many perks he enjoyed as CEO of Amalgamated Flange and Hasp, some of which continued even after he retired with a multi-million dollar “golden parachute” package several years ago. “They let me have an office and access to a secretary,” he says as his eyes mist up. “It was a great help when my wife died and I had to respond to all the wonderful condolence notes I got.”
“Who’s my widdle wovey-dovey?”
But his face takes on a less emotional cast as he reminisces about the benefit he misses the most. “Flying privately in a corporate jet is wonderful,” he says. “Shareholders don’t mind the cost because it makes me more efficient. You don’t want your top executive sitting next to a screaming kid when he’s working on next fiscal year’s budget.”
Wermer’s dissatisfaction with the indignities of flying with the public hit rock bottom one day after he paid for a first-class ticket and was seated next to a woman about his age with a Pomeranian dog on her lap. “That was new to me,” he says, after learning about the concert of an “emotional support” animal, but the irritation he suffered that day turned to inspiration. “I looked close at the terms and conditions,” he says, nodding knowingly. “There’s nothing in there that says a human isn’t an animal.”
And so when Wermer’s widowhood became public knowledge in this city on the west coast of Florida that is home to more Fortune 500 ex-CEOs per capita than anyplace in America, he acquired the obligatory bottle-blonde to put a new shine on his golden years. Brandi (“with an i” she says in a mock-stern voice) Storrs is a twenty-something Pilates instructor who Wermer made his personal “support bimbo,” and she now flies with him wherever he goes.
“Gotta hand it to Chuck,” says Mike Evershaski, who sold his chain of drive-through mashed potato restaurants at the age of 57 and now divides his time between fishing and golfing with Wermer. “He’s a guy who increased shareholder value by cutting costs, and he discovered that airline pet fees are significantly lower than ticket prices, so you can arbitrage the difference.”
That doesn’t mean Brandi is free to roam a single-aisle plane at will, as she must still obey FAA safety regulations. “Excuse me,” a stewardess on Coastal Airways says as she approaches the May-December couple, the younger of whom is fiddling with her phone. “I’m going to have to ask you to take your seat.”
“I don’t have a ticket,” Brandi says.
“Well, I can’t have you standing in the aisle,” the stewardess.
“It’s okay,” Wermer says, “she sits on my lap.”