When it comes to suicide there is often one inciting incident that tips the scale just enough to push a person over the edge, sometimes literally.
When one of my best friends made the decision to end his life he did so after a disastrous afternoon that was supposed to give him answers about his troubles but that ended up leaving him more in the dark than he had ever been. I’d elaborate, but Ronnie would want me to respect his family’s privacy and feelings so I’ll only say this: My friend was one of the most joyful souls I’ve ever met but for whatever reason he simply could no longer recognize the joy in the world around him.
I don’t want that to happen to anyone else.
We all need to learn to take notice of life’s simple pleasures, folks, even when they’re hidden in the strangest of places.
#76: Office Dave.
Everyone has a Dave (or a Steve or a Chuck) at their office, factory, whorehouse, black-ops safe house, whatever. Dave is the office weirdo, the one who always seems to microwave fish in the lunch room.
After two decades in the Niagara Falls hospitality industry I can honestly say I’ve seen every form of Dave the world has to offer, though I know fate’s always hiding an ace up it’s sleeve…
There was the midnight bellman (definitely a Dave if ever I’ve seen one) who kept a stash of various varieties of booze pilfered from gift baskets left over from a corporate shindig. He hid them in our luggage room and proceeded to drain them slowly over the course of a week. Of course, he was terminated by the end of the week, which was a shame, as his personality improved with every bottle. Sure, his story had an unhappy ending, but he bounced back. Eventually. I’m guessing.
This was the only logical choice, really. Enjoy.
Daves are the sort of mammal who elicit more eye rolls than a flurry of Trump’s tweets. They amaze us with an innate ability to go to places we’d never consider exploring unless we suddenly decided to down a few paint thinner cocktails.
I once knew another midnight bellman (who actually was a Dave) that decided the best way to kill some time during an otherwise mind-numbing shift was to slide into a room under renovations and “unlock” the adult films. His masturbatory adventures continued for some time; until someone switched his hand lotion with Gorilla Glue.
What a sticky situation, indeed.
It may be a masculine name but Daves come in all genders. There was a female Dave at the hotel who insisted on drawing pentagrams on all her lovers, of which there were many. Fortunately, she always used a hotel pen and most of the time those suckers don’t work. How she got away with her amateur tattoo jobs is still a mystery to me (she didn’t look an accomplished seductress but somehow she managed to become a black widow extraordinaire) but her reign ended after a few years, though they were certainly memorable years at that.
I’ve encountered Daves that ate toothpaste for lunch, wore skirts to work (to be clear, this was a Dave with boy parts) when it wasn’t even Casual Friday, talked to themselves on a regular basis and generally made a mockery of conventional workplace behavior.
Were they nuts? Most certainly! Were they still worthy of my respect and in some cases, kinship? Absolutely. Judge not lest you be judged, pilgrims.
And therein lies my point: Daves may be a thorn in our side, they may sometimes make us dread punching in at all, but they’re just trying to find their way through life, as we all are. So look at them as a gift not a burden. There’s always the slimmest possibility they’re here to remind you of how good you really have it or they could be here to make you laugh so hard it hurts.
We just don’t know.
See you in the lobby, friends…