There was this guy in our office. Well, not exactly a guy—more like a grown man of 36 years. Yet, he was quite unique.
To be frank, he wasn’t very bright. I took him on six years ago and never regretted it. The most interesting part was that he was aware of his limitations and openly acknowledged them. In fact, when he applied for the job, the first thing he said to me was:
“Hello! I’m not smart, and I don’t hide it. But I need a job to buy medicine for my mum, as she can no longer work.”
That startled me a bit, but I understood that he faced genuine difficulties. However, he was capable of handling less complicated tasks. He reminded me of Dustin Hoffman’s character in my cherished classic, “Rain Man.” I immediately realised who he was and didn’t want to offend him in any way.
“You’re smarter than most people who try to mask their foolishness without success. Alright, you can start working here tomorrow.”
From that day, he was like the son of the regiment with us. Over six years, he worked alongside everyone else. Though different, he was honest, decent, punctual, and, in my view, the best employee. He helped his mum recover after a stroke, and while we assisted with some medicine and physiotherapists, he did everything himself and never complained about the difficulty. The whole office loved him; we grew fond of him as if he were our own. We even got him from 12 stone to 15! In some ways, he even resembled me.
Anyway, two days ago, when I returned to the office after being away for a while, my assistant broke the news abruptly:
“Ollie’s resigning! Can you persuade him to stay? What will we do without him?”
I was taken aback. Resigning? To where? Why? I asked to see him in my office. He came in ten minutes later, staring down at the floor, chin practically resting on his chest.
“Ollie! What happened? Is something bothering you? Did someone upset you? Just point them out, and I’ll sack half the office!”
“No, no, please, don’t. I love everyone here. It’s just… well… um…”
“Don’t drag it out; what’s the issue? Is it your mum?”
“No, mum’s fine, thank you… I want to get married!”
That hit me unexpectedly, like a glitch in my iPhone! The immediate question was, “getting married, how?” But who was I to ask such a thing? He’s as much a person as I am, with all the same desires. Yet, I found myself a bit preoccupied by it.
“It’s important business. I hope you’re not the only one who wants to get married. Does the potential bride, if she’s already in your sights, feel the same?”
“Yes, absolutely! She’s been inviting me to come live with her in England for a year now, with my mum. She loves me and my mum!”
Blimey, I was uneasy about this. Him, quite vulnerable, moving to England, with his mum. It sounded intense!
“She must be a nice girl for you to plan to go there with your mum.”
“She’s very beautiful, a redhead, and smarter than me! I’ll show you her photo.”
And then he pulls out an iPhone 7 from his pocket! I was impressed. All these years, he’d hung onto an ancient flip phone, and we couldn’t switch him to anything more modern, despite giving him a Samsung for his birthday. But now—an iPhone 7! Before I could even ask, he shared:
“Caroline gave it to me and loaded it with pictures of herself so I wouldn’t miss her.”
At this point, my mind was whirring with terrible thoughts. I expected some glamour model-looking like a classic pin-up. But to my shock, the photo showed a red-haired girl with features typical of people with a well-known syndrome. I always call them “Bright Souls.”
After all, it’s not their fault they have an extra chromosome. In many ways, they surpass us! They never assume we’re idiots just because we have one less chromosome. They’re pleasant, harmless people, always smiling. Their smiles are genuinely uplifting, unlike the forced ones people give when they’re cursing you behind your back.
“She’s truly gorgeous! You’re really lucky! If everything’s as you say, as your boss, I’ll be reluctant, but as a person, I’ll happily let you go to your beauty! If you’re okay with it, I’ll ring your mum, clarify a few things, and buy you both a plane ticket. Sound good?”
Ollie was always cheerful, but I’d never seen such sheer joy on his face before! That smile was worth every penny of sending him anywhere. He clapped like a child and handed me his phone after dialling his mum’s number. And that’s why I’ve always found people on the spectrum like Olly to be wiser. He left me to talk without listening in, even though the conversation was about him! No one else would’ve done that—they’d hover nearby, trying to overhear. Unique people! Wise! Thoughtful!
Why shouldn’t they be as happy as anyone else? I’d even argue they’re often happier in their relationships because they can’t lie or yell, but they know how to love and be loyal.
So, who’s really smarter, and who’s not? I hope the answer is clear! And yes, after chatting with his mum, I learned she knows the girl well, and there’s no reason to doubt anything. Tomorrow, well actually today, at 8 AM, I’m driving my former employee and his mum to Heathrow, and at 11:25, they’re flying to Stockholm. They’ll be happy together, and I’ll be happy here for them. But in March, if nothing changes, I’ll fly to Stockholm to help my best and most positive employee tie the knot!
Looking at these people, you don’t mind sparing time, money, or effort to make their lives better. Then you look around and see those who mistake your kindness for weakness, those who would try to soil your soul, and you realise they mean nothing. They’re empty, they don’t exist for you. But thankfully, there are more good people. Maybe that’s why this lousy little planet keeps spinning…
Time to make a big pot of coffee to stay awake and not miss the airport!
