Another Point of Singularity

I worked as a night watchman in a government building while I was going to college in the early 80s.  In many ways, it was the perfect job—I worked nights, it paid well, and there were plenty of opportunities to study.  Unfortunately, the graveyard supervisor, Matthew, didn’t care for “college punks” so there was always a source of friction between us.  

Matthew was a classic Hallway Monitor all grown up; pushy, egotistical, sure of his charm, and always a big hit with the ladies who worked in the building during the day.  There’s a million little ways to needle a guy like that—and I explored every one of them.  I would play chess with another guard at meals.  I would read French magazines and listen to Arabic music stations and pretend I understood them.  I would “grade” the grammar and spelling on his log books (“C-!  Let’s see a better effort!”).  Childish revenge.  Most of all, I read books.  This was an activity Matthew rarely indulged in, and I think it intimidated him.  

On a rare Saturday shift, I was working as his roving guard, having been given the carrot of a little extra pay.  As I was walking around the building’s printing plant, my radio started squawking.  A car full of building employees had come back from lunch at high speed (and lubricated with drinks, it turned out) and had flipped in the corner of the parking lot.  Everyone on staff rushed to the scene and the proper procedure was followed—we called the real police, ambulance and fire, and then did what we could to help, which turned out to be keeping the crowed back.  The wreck was awful—the driver and front passenger, both young women, were killed instantly.   We followed procedure, the bodies were taken away to the morgue or the hospital, and we all made statements for the police.  Later, I strolled back to the guardroom in a daze.  Matthew was there, by himself, sobbing.  Not a watery-eyed snuffling, but genuine, helpless, snotty sobbing—the kind you don’t want to have seen by anyone.  I backed out of the room silently so that he never knew I saw him.  

The next week, I taught him how to play chess.