Miles
I haven't thought about Miles in a long time.
Miles was a guy I worked with at a small theater in Minneapolis. Miles and I did the most thankless jobs. We scrubbed toilets and mopped floors, sold concessions, ushered, and ran off to get the actors their Saturday night dinners at the Green Mill across the street. Damn, he was a smart guy. He was a smart guy that was goin' nowhere. I was only 19. I had an excuse. I was 19 and stupid.
I totally dug Miles. After I got over the initial weirdness that a guy that smart shouldn't be scrubbing toilets for minimum wage and no respect, Miles and I became good work pals. We talked a lot. We talked about politics, social issues, personal issues, sex, sex, sex, and the usual workplace bitching about the boss. I don't remember what it was we were talking about that particular day, but I do remember his reaction. I remember it vividly.
I was being a bit of a smart ass while I was tallying some ticket information in the box office and he was mopping the floor just outside the ticket window. I tossed off some flip remark and he stopped dead in his tracks like I had shot him with a deer rifle. His eyes glazed over and his shoulders fell. Then he said,
"You are just too young to be that cynical."
He walked away from me shaking his head.
I replay that scene in my head from time to time. Funny how some things come back to you in bits and pieces and stick like leftover chunks of adhesive after some ancient scotch tape has been yanked off the wall. Miles was probably right. I feel that I am too cynical about people and the way things work. I try to hold on to my optimism and faith in humanity, but sometimes I can be so wretchedly disappointed. I don't rebound well. But what bothers me most about that little moment in time is that I disappointed Miles.
Miles was a guy I worked with at a small theater in Minneapolis. Miles and I did the most thankless jobs. We scrubbed toilets and mopped floors, sold concessions, ushered, and ran off to get the actors their Saturday night dinners at the Green Mill across the street. Damn, he was a smart guy. He was a smart guy that was goin' nowhere. I was only 19. I had an excuse. I was 19 and stupid.
I totally dug Miles. After I got over the initial weirdness that a guy that smart shouldn't be scrubbing toilets for minimum wage and no respect, Miles and I became good work pals. We talked a lot. We talked about politics, social issues, personal issues, sex, sex, sex, and the usual workplace bitching about the boss. I don't remember what it was we were talking about that particular day, but I do remember his reaction. I remember it vividly.
I was being a bit of a smart ass while I was tallying some ticket information in the box office and he was mopping the floor just outside the ticket window. I tossed off some flip remark and he stopped dead in his tracks like I had shot him with a deer rifle. His eyes glazed over and his shoulders fell. Then he said,
"You are just too young to be that cynical."
He walked away from me shaking his head.
I replay that scene in my head from time to time. Funny how some things come back to you in bits and pieces and stick like leftover chunks of adhesive after some ancient scotch tape has been yanked off the wall. Miles was probably right. I feel that I am too cynical about people and the way things work. I try to hold on to my optimism and faith in humanity, but sometimes I can be so wretchedly disappointed. I don't rebound well. But what bothers me most about that little moment in time is that I disappointed Miles.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 2:58 AM
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