As of right now, I have two jobs, one working as an under-paid Barista in Yorkville on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and another as working under the title of “personal assistant”, and by “personal assistant”, I mean “slave to a 78 year old woman” who happens to have arthritis and depends on me to acquire her drugs on a weekly basis. A gram of weed here, a few benzo’s there, and of course, CVS trips to pick up diapers, enemas and 6 pack cans of diet pepsi.
Job #1, the one where I make skim cappacions for housewives and their friends usually fly’s by rather quickly, myself humming old folk songs while I subconsciously make the same drink for the third time in a row, but yesterday, something new happened. I was working the register, writing down drink titles and taking dirty money, and a man approaches and asks for a glass of water and then gets very close to my face, maybe three inches away and whispers, “I need to know the title of this book you have here because I can’t see very well and I left my glasses at home. I’m just going to take the book and look really close, is that okay”? Because of my taking Valium every morning before work (pathetic, yes), I find these situations neither startling nor scary, but merely another New York moment to remember for a train ride down the road.
Looking at my computer screen, I calmly and nicely mention that we can’t move the books without an individual purchase, but I’d be more than happy to write down the title of the author & novel and give it to him to use for when he has his glasses. While smiling and looking through his wallet, he says
“Did you know that I’m a psychiatrist? I had a stroke not long ago and that has a lot to do with my vision. Here, look at this, I am a part of the Mount Sinai psychiatric group and went to medical school at Columbia near Morningside Heights.”
I didn’t particurally care, and no matter how much Valium one might be on, creepy men are creepy men, and at this point, I was on the verge of telling him to move aside so I could assist the next customer. He wasn’t lying though. He should me identification of his being a part of the Columbia and Mount Sinai Psychiatric group/program/institute/whatever. I stated that it was nice talking to him and to take care and that I need to get back to work, but to take care and keep his chin up. He walked away, still smiling. His eyes were hazy.
An hour goes by, and the man comes up again. I roll my eyes, and he doesn’t notice. He asks for a piece of paper, so I take a small sheet from the receipt machine and give it to him. Thereafter, he asks for a pen. I begin to get flustered. He steps aside for a minute or so, looks in my direction and hands me the paper which says:
“Neuro-Scientist in Psychiatry - (his personal email address), his name, M-D PhD2B, Chapeau, N.Y.”
He then says,
“I would give you free sessions if you would like. I have my PhD. I don’t know if I mentioned that, you see, my memory is fading because I had a stroke not long ago, but here, I have this for you.”
The man hands me a tie, and a chamomile tea bag as a gift. He said that he collects ties and that he would like for me to have it. It was yellow with green stripes around it - a thick tie that would look horrendous on any of the clothing I own. I thanked him, and told him I would be in touch. I will not be in touch, but after that day, I came to the conclusion that one must always take every moment into consideration. Rather than considering this man to be a fucking nutcase, I stood straight, analyzed the situation and concluded that this 60 something year old man had a stroke. He might have once been brilliant, but in that moment, he was kind hearted, a little confused, but had lovely intentions and still smiled as he left the door.
As I left the store for my ten minute break to step outside 79th street to smoke a cigarette, he approached me and asked for his tie back because of him having dinner with his mother later.
“I feel really bad, you know. I wanted you to have the tie, but I want to look nice for my mom, so can I have it back please? Do you still have it?”
I smiled and said,
“Yes sir, I still have it and would be more than happy to return your tie. Give me 15 minutes and it will be my gift to you.”
I think I might be looking for a new job. The manager of American Apparel somewhere in SoHo wants me to model for her, and I said maybe, so we’ll see where that goes. Another part of me wants to transfer schools and study psychiatry.
