You were the most difficult client I ever had.
Highly intelligent with an engineering background, your bio was a fascinating one. You rode the silicon wave right out of northern California and crashed upon the shores of the Valley. Along with many of your cohorts, the work dried up with the dot.com implosion. Of course, this was after your stint as a weapons inspector in Iraq, but before you took out an ad for handyman services in the local rag because you liked to tinker.
I never had reason to question your resume or stories until later, but that's not important. You were a fascinating fellow with or without the credentials. I do know that you came from money, and that it seemed to fund the chasing of your whims. The launching of a food service business and the construction of a coffee house café may have been to blame for the difficulties I had in keeping you on course with the investment property you purchased to flip. You never really wanted much to do with it in the first place, and were thrust into the role of sole investor when you fell out with your partner - the guy who was supposed to swing the hammer. A three month project turned into 2 years. I ended up doing far more than the work of a Realtor to get you out of that debacle relatively unscathed, only for you to disappear at critical junctures. We would have conference calls with your bank and your financial planner over the most trivial nuances, but I could never find you for pressing matters. Of course, when you got me on the phone to discuss whatever was on your mind, it would turn into a several hour conversation that had little to do with anything. Or so it seemed.
I grew to abhor seeing that number flash across my caller ID. I'd answer grudgingly, and steel myself for the wasted hours to follow.
I met your contractors, picked out materials when you were AWOL, hounded you to pay outstanding bills and pleaded with you to fulfill the terms of the contract once we finally did find a buyer.
I did not recognize it back then.
Whatever would ultimately compel you to drive your car into that warehouse, lock yourself in and set the fire, I should have recognized the loneliness. In retrospect, it seems painfully obvious that you couldn't focus because there were simply too many demons crowding your mind and competing for attention. Even on tip-toes, you stood little chance of seeing past them to the outside world. How incredibly mundane and unimportant those business matters must have seemed when the urgency really lied in the rambling conversations that would occasion the rolling of my eyes.
I look back on those phone calls I dreaded, the transaction I couldn't wait to close, and I bear the weight of knowing I couldn't wait for our paths to veer. All I wanted was to be free of you, and all you wanted was a friend.
I'm sorry, Bill.
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