I once worked for a local real estate guy who had a habit of firing assistants after two years. He did that to me. In Christmas of 2008 I was given a bonus and an Apple MP3 player for “doing a great job.” In February 2009 he fired me. “It’s not working out,” he said.
Occasionally I saw him on the street because he walked to work from the east side. Despite what happened, we always had a cordial chat. He was an old man even then, about 76 - but vigorous and athletic, a very young seventy-six. A month ago I saw him walking up Columbus Avenue. He had aged massively. He looked "good for eighty-six" - but eighty-six is eighty-six. Although I resented him for firing me, I felt sad that the old lion had lost his fangs.
Many years ago, I had a friend named Larry. He was a very enterprising, smart guy. He was an accountant and had several side gigs. We hung out for a few years. He invited me to a birthday dinner for his mother at Lutece and he got me an adjunct job at Mercy College. (Which I screwed up because I was such a jerk.) He also talked sense to me about some family stuff and I’ll always be grateful to him for that.
We fell out of touch, surely because I wasn't interested in him, and I always wondered what became of him. I saw him on the street a few months ago. He clearly had had a breakdown. Mental or physical, I don't know. He just looked terrible. I didn't want to say anything to him. A week ago I saw him again. Same thing, looked awful. I felt so bad but what could I do?
Then there was the Hispanic guy who did odd jobs around my building and a few others that my landlord owns. Once he brought his wife and cute little kid to the building and one of my neighbors chatted in her student Spanish with the kid.
He disappeared. I thought he went back home. A month ago I saw him sleeping on the street. I've seen him a few times since then—the time I saw him sleeping off a binge was no one-off. He had become a homeless alcoholic. Once he had a job and a family. What happened?
Sad sights. Life is a mill.