The Looking Glass
In the 1980’s, I worked at an antiquated institution that housed behaviorally involved individuals behind locked doors. The long commute coupled with the physically and mentally taxing work ran its course after a couple of years. I found employment closer to home at another antiquated institution. Filled with the smell of “the grass is greener” philosophy, I looked forward to starting my new job.
On my lunch break, I started walking to the commissary for a bite to eat. There is something about giving your two week notice that has a way of putting pep in your step. Brighter pastures seemed ahead of me literally and figuratively.
A fellow behavior modification program technician, waved me down. Headed in opposite directions with different time constraints, Dillon Menk stood no closer than shouting distances.
“Joe, I heard through the grapevine that you’re leaving us.”
“All true.” I shouted. “It’s going to happen the next pay period, if they release me as planned.”
“May I ask where you are headed? What you will be doing?”
I told him. Dillon moved close enough for me to see the seriousness etched on his face. It would be the last time I ever saw him. He had the best intentions in the world when he marshaled up a word of warning.
“Joe, that is one dangerous place that you are headed. You be careful. Watch your back. A client assault could end your career on your first day of work.”
I scoffed. Jobs came and went under the same employer. Twenty years of safe passage pass into the sunset.
Not too long ago, I received an unsolicited phone call, from somebody, who had just been promoted to a temporary position at the same institution once heeded to me as a warning.
“How did you land that job?” I asked. “I thought they just filled that position with a staff member who accepted a transfer from another institution.”
“The position was filled, briefly.”
I implored an explanation. “What happened?”
"The new hire didn’t make it past his second day on the job. A client attacked the guy from behind and savagely beat him unconscious. He is in critical condition. Doctors worry that he may be brain injured. If Dillon Menk even lives, I doubt he will ever work again.”
“Dillon Menk!” I mouthed. “Oh, my God!”
It was as if Dillon Menk pre-cognitively realized his own fate two decades earlier.
Labels: social work
posted by Joe Tornatore | 7:14 AM
8 Comments:
Oh my word!
(That's all I can muster for now)
p.s. going to watch The Da Vinci Code next weekend when the crowds have worn away
Dr.
I finally finished The Da Vinci Code book this past weekend. I'm not much of a reader.
That is quite creepy.
I know how you like irony. Something I raised issue with last week came back to bite me on the ---! Karma maybe, I just laughed at myself for taking it all too seriously.
Zelda,
With all of the incoming phone calls, I'm glad you had time to laugh.
You've officially 'creeped me out'. :::looks for Rod Serling:::
Pax,
That ain't nothing.
Good gosh.
I know I just mentioned (in another comment I left today) about my friend who died in the WTC, but this merits telling here.
Same girl and I used to take the SI Ferry home from the city every night after work. The years were '71 and '72 at the time and we watched with awe as they built every single floor onto the Twin Towers. We used to talk about "who the heck would work that high up."
One day she told me "No way ... not me. Look how high those buildings are ... just imagine the possible horrors that could happen in such a building."
Little did she know that some 15 years later, her company (used to be on Broadway) would move into the Towers on the 90th floor. Apparently it didn't disturb her enough to quit. Maybe it should have.
Hag,
We are plainning a trip to NYC and the wife wants to visit the Empire State Building. After seeing King Kong, it looks too high.
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