He approached me from shadows at the bus stop. He looked like you’d expect a haggard beggar to look. The clothes were tattered; the breath could be felt a block away and the odor was something kinder than a garbage truck, but just.
His eyes fell to the pavement as he approached, as if to say, “I am sorry for even coming near you.” But approach he did. And as he drew close enough to me to figure out that his last meal had come from a Dempsey Dumpster, he spoke in an eloquent tongue. “I have been out of work for close to a year. I could use some help, if it’s possible, sir.” He slowly extended both hands – almost a combination of begging and prayer.
“What did you do?” I asked as I reached for my wallet. “Before you were let go?”
“I was an engineer. A mechanical engineer. We built small electronic parts of TVs and computers. My job was to design the assembly line for the most efficiency. Getting supplies in and parts out in the shortest amount of time. That is what I did.”
I handed him twenty dollars. “Do you drink?” I asked. He thought it was a statement of judgment, as if he answered in the affirmative, he would lose the cash donation. He shook his head slightly, but I noticed him licking his lips simultaneously.
“There’s a bar over there. What say I buy you a meal and we can a enjoy a pint of our favorite poison together.” He nodded an almost sprinted to the door and opened it for me. Ramon, the bartender, frowned at the homeless man’s sight and frowned even more when the fumes of his life drifted across the mahogany bar. He tilted his head just so as if to silently ask the question, “Really, John. You have to bring him in here?”
We sat in the back in a booth, and I must say the olfactory cacophony was almost too much to take. He ordered a hamburger, fries, a salad and a piece of Ramon’s wife’s famous cherry pie. “When I had money I used to come in here everyday after work. This was my evening meal.”
“So, why were you canned?” I asked, as the waitress hurriedly placed to lagers in front of us and sped away to safety. He slowly licked the head off his drink, then closed his eyes as he let the first few amber drops of the nectar roll down his parched throat.
“Our jobs were shipped to Korea. Then to China. Next year even the Chinese are going to lose them. They are being sent to India. It’s funny though…”
“What that?” I asked keeping him on track as he studied his brew.
“The quality is going downhill so fast that returns are crippling the company’s output and profit. I still got a buddy who works there and he says that they are moving to India as a last stand before closing down that division all together.”
“Sucks doesn’t it?” I said in encouragement.
“I’ll say it does. I moved from England for this job. I was with the company there and thought that I’d have more opportunity in America than over the pond. More opportunity in the land of opportunity. Got my citizenship. I’ve even voted in two elections.
“Now look at me. And I’m not the only one. There were five engineers on my shift and only one of us has found work. And his job is just part time. But oh my God, how Wall Street rallied when they heard the news that the company was outsourcing manufacturing and engineering to overseas suppliers. Stock rose like the morning sun.”
“Are you still looking?” I asked wondering how a beggar like this guy could ever go to a job interview looking and smelling as he did.
“I gave up six months ago. There’s nothing here. The money you gave me I’ll save up and try to get on with a firm in Mexico. There’s lots of manufacturing along the border. But it will take a while.”
“So it’s not for drink?”
He shrugged. “Maybe some. But mostly it is to get to the bloody border and see if I can start over. Again.”
“Family?” I asked feeling nosy.
“There used to be. But she couldn’t take it anymore and took the kids back to England to be with her mum.”
The food arrived and he ate as if it were his last meal. I finished my beer and asked him if he wanted another. “No. Just water will be fine.” I paid the waitress for our meal and the drinks and told her to let him stay as long as he needed to. I slipped her a twenty and said that if he wanted coffee or anything else get it for him and I would pay her back tomorrow. She nodded. Ramon smiled at me as I left, hoping the homeless man would be coming with me. The smile turned back to a frown as his eyes diverted to the back wall and saw the bundled guy finishing the cherry pie and sipping on a big glass of ice water.
I forgot to get his name. Don’t know where he lives. Not even sure if the entire story is true or not. I did call the company he said he worked for and sure enough they told me they had shut the electronic components division down just as he said and moved the production offshore. I asked the woman on the phone if they were planning on transitioning their manufacturing to India soon. There was a pause on the line, “I’ll have to let you speak to our public relations division about that, sir. That is news we are not ready to divulge yet. Where did you hear that?”
And so it goes. Wall Street cheers as we feed more and more homeless and hungry. And they call it the American way. God bless America. I hope we can make it through this season of greed that we’ve been swept up into – oh wait; I forgot – it is called capitalism.
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