The Nomad

There's a man at work who to others have a name, but to me, he's known as 'The Nomad.' I'm sure he has a real name like the rest of us, in fact, he shared it with me once, but unfortunately, names are not my strong suit.

He is a man who once retired, but decided to come back for reasons not known to me, doing work that's unknown to many of us, and can be summed up by a Micheal Jackson line: "Got to be good looking 'cause he's so hard to see." But that's not the reason why I call him 'The Nomad' I call him that because he is... a nomad.

As if without warning, he just walked in and decided to start working one day, the manager did not have anything for him, not a office, nor a cubical, nor even a space. So he ended up in a cubical next to mine because the person that was there is out on a 2 week vacation. And you know what he did in those two weeks? He just sat there.

On our lucky days, he will grace us with his presence from 9-3pm. And since he's using someone else's desk, he doesn't have computer access, which kills the internet, work docs, excel, printing, typing, processing, and printing. Which then leaves us with... reading. He doesn't even have full phone privilege because while he can call out, it's hard to tell if the incoming call were for him, and when he leave messages it would always end with something like this: "the number is here 713.. 4.. umm... I'm using someone else's phone for the time being so it's probably more convenient if I call you.. but if you need to reach me and get back to me you can call my cell phone at '1800 i'm-useless!'" How ghetto is that? And just when you think it cannot get any worst... it does.

What's a man to do when there's nothing to do, or can do? The man pretends. They found this box from the dungeon down below with some old maps and notes and whatnots, and apparently, it was his stuff from the pre-retirement era. It looks dusty, and it is dusty. And the man spend 2 weeks sitting there, going through this box. Mind you, it's not a big box. A kid can pick it up with one hand, and a horse can fill it all the way to the brim with one pee session. It's just not a big box!

What does he do with the rest of his time? He disappears... every now and then you would see him walking around, always like he's going somewhere important, but then it was turns out to be the bathroom, or the kitchen, or to chat with this person, or that person. And it just goes on and on all day, till around 3pm, then we wouldn't see him anymore... a dusty box is all that's left behind.

To make things worst, Madonna, the rightful owner of the cubical, returns from her vacation a week ago, and thus kicking our bum off his shelter bridge. I never find out where they ended up placing him, and I'm not quite sure they ever did. In fact, I think they just kinda forgot about him, 'cause they never did have anyone set up a computer for him, nor a phone to my knowledge. And every now and then, between the hours of 9-3pm, I see him walking around, going to places, never in a hurry, never carrying anything... just walking around like a nomad, looking for his shelter... or perhaps things to put in his dusty box.