It was a dull, late Friday evening. A young engineer dressed in jeans and a polo shirt boards the transit rail from the airport to get home to the suburbs. There's a weary look on his face as he curses his decision of parking his car at the train station instead of parking at the airport. He's passively looking into his cellphone and setting reminders for next week's work and travel, as he settles down in the the half full train car with one seat occupying his luggage, and him on the other.
A few stops down, he looks up from his cellphone screen and gives a sheepish smile to the man sitting across him on the train, waiting to get down on the next stop. He looks like another young professional, just a little older than him, impeccably dressed, with his overnight bag showing a flight tag. Both of them are weary and ready to go home for the weekend, and get a break from their frantic work weeks.
They exchange a smile that barely veils their mutual boredom and fatigue associated with business travel.
"Two more weeks of travel, a meeting late next week, and a gazillion emails to catch up on. Phew! Not really the weekend I was looking for", thinks the young man to himself .
Two stops down the line, he looks up from the cellphone screen and looks around. He sees an old man in a bright orange shirt, a hard hat and worn out shoes standing by the corner of the train.For all his rugged looks and ragged clothes, the old man wore a bright smile on his face. He shuffles his bags around and offers his seat to the old man.
"Thank you, son! Thank you very much.", said the old man in his hoarse voice.
"Anytime, Sir! Do you work in construction?", asks the young man, signaling at the hard hat and his clothing.
"Yeah son.. Been workin' since a long time. 77, and been working since I be 16. How old' you been? 23? Whaddya do? Appreciate you givin' me the seat, son".
"Not a problem. I'm an engineer. Got my hard hat packed in here too.", said the young man, signalling at his bag.
"Ahh! You an engineer... you're smart people... you make them blueprints and drawings we work with, don't ya? You smart folks.. you makin' big money.. but you smart.. you really smart folks."
"Thank you, Sir. It's very kind of you to say that.", says the young man with a sheepish smile. "Are you returning from a job site?"
"I ain't workin' today, son...worked at a recycling dump. Worked long.. worked at a lot of places, for years. Can't be working long now... came out today to get some parts for my wheelchair. It's broke and needed fixing. Gotta get the parts for it, right?".
"Hmm..", he replied, as if lost in some thought.
All through the conversation, the old man had a peculiarly pleasant toothless smile. A smile that would overpower the limp in his walk, the hunch on his back and the wrinkles on his skin.
Something within the young man clicked.
In all his travels, this was one of the few times he was talking to a fellow passenger instead of being buried in his phone or a book, and it suddenly gave him a different perspective about his otherwise busy, frantic life that he sometimes complained about.
The conversation wasn't stimulating, but the little experience was. The old man had a certain enthusiasm about his life. Even if it was about buying parts for his wheelchair.
"That's my stop, son. God bless ya!", he said as he departed.
Quietly, the young man thanked God for this little lesson in life, and smiled to himself as he remembered the words he once read on his mentor's desk:
"I had the blues, 'cause I had no shoes; Until on the street, I met a man who had no feet".
A few stops down, he looks up from his cellphone screen and gives a sheepish smile to the man sitting across him on the train, waiting to get down on the next stop. He looks like another young professional, just a little older than him, impeccably dressed, with his overnight bag showing a flight tag. Both of them are weary and ready to go home for the weekend, and get a break from their frantic work weeks.
They exchange a smile that barely veils their mutual boredom and fatigue associated with business travel.
"Two more weeks of travel, a meeting late next week, and a gazillion emails to catch up on. Phew! Not really the weekend I was looking for", thinks the young man to himself .
Two stops down the line, he looks up from the cellphone screen and looks around. He sees an old man in a bright orange shirt, a hard hat and worn out shoes standing by the corner of the train.For all his rugged looks and ragged clothes, the old man wore a bright smile on his face. He shuffles his bags around and offers his seat to the old man.
"Thank you, son! Thank you very much.", said the old man in his hoarse voice.
"Anytime, Sir! Do you work in construction?", asks the young man, signaling at the hard hat and his clothing.
"Yeah son.. Been workin' since a long time. 77, and been working since I be 16. How old' you been? 23? Whaddya do? Appreciate you givin' me the seat, son".
"Not a problem. I'm an engineer. Got my hard hat packed in here too.", said the young man, signalling at his bag.
"Ahh! You an engineer... you're smart people... you make them blueprints and drawings we work with, don't ya? You smart folks.. you makin' big money.. but you smart.. you really smart folks."
"Thank you, Sir. It's very kind of you to say that.", says the young man with a sheepish smile. "Are you returning from a job site?"
"I ain't workin' today, son...worked at a recycling dump. Worked long.. worked at a lot of places, for years. Can't be working long now... came out today to get some parts for my wheelchair. It's broke and needed fixing. Gotta get the parts for it, right?".
"Hmm..", he replied, as if lost in some thought.
All through the conversation, the old man had a peculiarly pleasant toothless smile. A smile that would overpower the limp in his walk, the hunch on his back and the wrinkles on his skin.
Something within the young man clicked.
In all his travels, this was one of the few times he was talking to a fellow passenger instead of being buried in his phone or a book, and it suddenly gave him a different perspective about his otherwise busy, frantic life that he sometimes complained about.
The conversation wasn't stimulating, but the little experience was. The old man had a certain enthusiasm about his life. Even if it was about buying parts for his wheelchair.
"That's my stop, son. God bless ya!", he said as he departed.
Quietly, the young man thanked God for this little lesson in life, and smiled to himself as he remembered the words he once read on his mentor's desk:
"I had the blues, 'cause I had no shoes; Until on the street, I met a man who had no feet".
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