August 10, 2006

• Day 4

  A poorly shaven man in his fifties came into work earlier today.
  He looked up at the tall buildings and started spinning around as if in awe and
  trying to take everything in all at once. From first glance, he looked out of
  place in the uppity-up overpriced ocean front condos I work at. I had never
  seen him around before, so, I decided to approach him.

   

  “Excuse me sir.  May I
  help you?”

   

  “Oh. No. I live here”

   

  “In which unit you do live in sir?”

   

  “Oh I really don’t know. I’ve only been here a few days. Five
  days. I just don’t know.”

   

  “Well sir… do you live in the south or north building?” I
  ask gesturing at each of the two buildings.

   

  “Well… uh… I don’t know. I’m actually staying with some
  friends.”

   

  I just stare at him blackly trying to make since of this man
  dressed in a dirty white t-shit and very short blue shorts. His hands just fidgeted
  with what looked like a light blue canvas purse. A purse! I snickered inside.

   

  “Well sir,” I continued. “What are your friend’s last names?”

   

  “White.”

   

  Now I have worked at these condos since late February, and I
  simply didn’t recall any resident by the last name of White. So I radio it back.
  Perhaps someone just moved in this past week and I wasn’t made aware, after all,
  these things have happened. But before I could get a response, the man makes a
  mad dash to the door!

   

  “EXCUSE ME SIR! GET BACK HERE!” I yell.

   

  The man sheepishly wanders back in time to hear we have no
  resident by the name of White.

   

  “No White? No White! But I stayed with them for five months!

   

  “Five months sir? You told me five days!”

   

  “No. No. No! Five months!” He contested getting frustrated.

   

  “Sir that is not possible and I’m now asking you to leave.”

   

  “Can’t I wait on Mr. White?”

   

  “Mr. White does not live here. You have no reason to be
  here. Please leave.”

   

  “But that’s not fair!” He said getting angry. “Mr. White
  used to live here. He owned all of this. I stayed with him!”

   

  It’s hot. I’m now sweating. I want to go back inside with
  the a/c instead of dealing with this delusional man. I’m getting frustrated
  myself so I give him the ultimatum.

   

  “These condos have been here quite some time, and I can
  assure you sir… that Mr. White does not own any of this… now…today. If you have
  no business here, I ask you again please leave the property or I… better yet the
  Juno PD will remove you.”

   

  “But that’s not fair! I’ve got no where to go. Mr. White…”
  Now defeated, he tries to take a seat on the pavement.

   

  “Sir you can’t sit there. This is private property. You need
  to leave.”

   

  He gets up mumbling something incoherent as I usher him out
  past the gates. Then he starts on me again.

   

  “Well I own a piece of this too!  

   

  “Sir?”

   

  “Well, why have I been paying nine hundred dollars a month
  for this place? A play you say I can’t stay?”

   

  “Sir… get real. These places cost a lot more than nine
  hundred bones a month. Heck! I can’t even afford this place! You don’t live
  here. Mr. White does not live here. You don’t belong here.”

   

  He fidgets with his purse for a moment before turning away.
  He takes a few steps then turns and says…

   

  “But I’ve got no place to go. I can’t go back to that crack
  house. I don’t wanna’ go back to that crack house… this place just looked so
  nice…”

   

  My heart sank as he turned and walked away… pasted the gates…
  across the street… past the bush and the buildings on the other side.

   

  He and I are the same type of man; both troubled by our
  afflictions. He is my future. He is my destiny if I don’t change my ways.

   

  • 5:14 pm
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