He had needles in his pockets. To be more precise, he had syringes, handfuls of them, in his pockets. From where I was seated, I couldn't see them, but my coworker sent me a message saying as much. So, being me, I got up and walked over to Check The Printer. "Oh looks like the printer is working again!" I pantomime and then I try to be discreet as I turn absurdly slowly like I am about to run towards the man I have just realized is my true love instead of just to check the bulging pockets of a man with patches of pink skin and brown scabs up and down his arms and neck, which is all I can see as I shuffle past my coworker. He is not doing well.
The security guard, always aware of what is going on somehow, has appeared suddenly behind him just as I am about to finish slinking past, eyeballs rolling wildly to take it all in. She leans simultaneously away (smell) while leaning her face towards him (discretion), "Sir." She waits till he looks at her out of the side of his eyes, "Sir I see your pockets and I just want to be clear that you are NOT going into the bathroom here today. ...Okay?" He nods, emotionless and his eyes glide back towards my coworker on the other side of the Plexiglas, who is trying to finish getting him his SNAP card, so he can go about his day.
She slides the book over to him. He signs his name. She slides a card through the slot, the only gap in the four foot wide by three foot tall plastic barrier, and then smiles--her eyes crinkling in the corners--and she looks him in the eyes and says "It was good seeing you--you take care now, okay?"
At this point, though I have seen her do this a hundred times now, I am rocked; she means it. She really means that she is glad to see him, scabs and sharp pointy bits and all. The best I can do is meaning it 15% of the time. Having said that, I can only mean "I love you" about 30% of the time, so maybe the problem is on THIS side of the glass.
On a daily basis, I see a few people on heroin, one or two people who are drunk, one or two people who experience the world in a completely different way than I do, and a dozen people who are just poor and looking or help. I don't judge, which makes me feel good about myself, but like I said I don't really particularly enjoy meeting them either. I do enjoy my job though, so far. It is nice to see people get happier as you help them--does that mean I enjoy meeting them? I guess maybe it does--but it seems selfish to say so. Either way, it is always interesting, for now.
One of my coworkers, the one who means it when she tells people that they made her day better, sends me gifs of people in movies pretending to shoot themselves in the head. Like... once or twice a day. I think this is her way of telling me she likes me. I hope that is what she means.
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