fridays and vince.

mornings. mon-fri. i walk into the old empty downtown building i work at and vince is waiting for me to take me up to the 8th floor. he's no more than four feet tall and needs crutches to walk, and it'll immediately break your heart. he'll call you "boss" every time he sees you, even if you're like me and still look 17. and at first you might stand there uncomfortably, like you do every time you're alone with a stranger in an elevator. but it's not just that- you can't help but feel bad for him, stuck in this elevator unable to walk, taking you up to a floor you could use your long legs to get to but you're too lazy to use the stairs. in fact, you might get so uncomfortable you'll start making shit chat with him but you can't say much because you're only going to the 8th floor. but say you do. then you get to hear him proudly respond with his nigerian accent that sounds like how smiling would sound if smiles could talk. and you immediately feel comfortable because now, you're smiling.

the sad funny thing is, every morning when i talk to vince, no matter what day of the week it is, our quick conversations always seem to lead to friday. whether it's talking about how our previous fridays went, or about how we can't wait for this friday, it's all about friday. and the days go by so fast it seems like every day is friday. we count and count and when friday comes, we're liberated and optimistic about the two days that follow it. but the weekend comes so fast and goes so fast since every day seems like friday, and then it hit me. that all this counting, it doesn't make sense. i mean, you can count to every friday of every week of every month of every year and forget all the days inbetween and you'll be dead twice as fast. so fuck friday! i thought. today is TODAY! .. . . .::..

look that's all corny bullshit and all, but what i'm saying is, for vince, who's in his fifties, waiting for fridays is all he does. and that also broke my heart. how does someone live like that- work everyday in an elevator in a building that only has about 8 people that go in and out every day, and making shit while doing it?
but immediately, i snap out of it. because vince doesn't need your pity, and he sure as hell doesn't need my pity.

he spends his final (fri)days working in an elevator for minimum wage, but he does it with a good attitude and a sense of humor, and that makes him a great man. i always make sure i try and make him laugh at least once every morning. it's a challenge because i only have about 20 seconds, but he's easy to crack up and his laugh- he's got the biggest laugh, a bigger laugh than anybody four times his size it's absolutely joyous. it's definitely worth it to think of corny jokes walking from my car to his elevator. i felt like such a fool when i was surprised to hear he graduated from the university of maryland after immigrating from nigeria- i hate the way i subconsciously make assumptions about people. he told me with a smile how his wife divorced him a decade ago but it was okay because he made it to the special olympics for ping pong. hearing about all this life he's living and lived makes me really happy. because everyone's got their own world, and there's so much going on inside all of it. so who's got any time to pity anyone? who's got the time to want pity from anyone? there aren't enough fridays left, it's better to use that time and enjoy people like vince.