The Homeless Nose
At 4:30am, the immediate world around me is asleep or at the very least, not outside. At least, they shouldn’t be. This is the time of morning when most folks should still be asleep. I should still be asleep, but my professional obligations keep me from remaining in some form of slumber. Of course, I also like the easy overtime money that I’m able to collect. Getting up as early as I do is my normal and has been for nearly two years.
I drive to work at varying speeds. That is to say that some mornings, I’ll drive fast. On other mornings, I drive slower. The speed at which I drive is not predicated on anything other than how I feel at the time. The roads are practically empty, so there’s no need to drive as fast as I do sometimes. At that hour of the early morning, I’m not in any hurry to get to work. I’m already guaranteed to arrive at least two hours early as it is.
The parking lot is mostly empty when I arrive at the office, again well before 4:45am. The only vehicles that are in the lot are those that belong to the two security guards who have been there since the night before. I anticipate that at least one of them has successfully fallen asleep at some point during their shift. I can’t say I’d blame them. There’s not much stimulation in or around the office at those hours, so I figure falling asleep seems like a good choice as any.
This is where the anomaly happens. As I said, the parking lot is dead. At least it should be. That morning, it was not. Given my mindset that theoretically, I ought to be alone in that parking lot, I exit my car and think absolutely nothing of it. Unbeknownst to me, there are two homeless women standing a few feet from my car door. They stood just far enough, to where they wouldn’t be stuck by the driver’s side door as it swings open. My guess is that they saw me as I arrived and were waiting to engage with me. As I exit my car, I want to say that I nearly hit them with the door because I usually just open the door without even the slightest thought that I’m going to hit anything. They startled me as I got out. Still, I apologize to them, as regardless of whether they are homeless, I wouldn’t want to hit them with my car door. I even tell them that I didn’t see them. One of them, who happened to be draped in what looked like a dingy comforter, laughed it off and then asked me if by chance, I happened to have a lighter on me.
No, I don’t. I don’t smoke. Sorry about that.
Neither of them was in the least bit disappointed or upset. I guess they knew it was a shot in the dark and that the rate of success was going to be relatively low.
As they walked away, seemingly in excellent spirits, I heard one of them tell the other:
Oh my God, he smells SO good!
“Thank you”, in my head, was all I could muster at the time. Verbally, out loud, I didn’t say a word.
I didn’t know what to say or think. Homeless ladies think I smell good. Who am I to argue?
I opened the trunk, grabbed my things, and made my way to the side of the building where I always enter. As I take a seat at my cubicle and fire up my computer, I think about what just happened. This is also my normal, where I’ll replay things in my head over and over again, for understanding, comfort, and sometimes just for the memory of it.
This happened to me back in December 2024, but here I am, now some five months later and it still resonates with me.
We all like to be complimented and in some instances, it doesn’t matter from where the compliments originate.
Compliments feel good to hear.
They just are.