I'll Miss You, Dear.

The other day, an acquaintance died. Suddenly. At 63. I've not yet heard why.

I'd met him at my last job - he was the thoroughly idiosyncratic outside accountant. He'd come in, schmooze his way through the office, and return to his stunningly "oh-my-god-where-is-the-floor" messy office. A dear. He knew, within moments of our first meeting, that it was the wrong job for me. And he proceeded to call me, weekly, for the next year, to tell me about other jobs, until finally he told me about the job I have now - a place I've been for more than 15 years.

He was good people. From his disheveled perch in the accounting office, he informally brokered tickets and jobs. We'd talk from time to time - he let me know about other jobs (on a less frequent basis), he sent a present when my baby was born, and he called once to ask me where to have dinner on a second date. Like I would know?

But last I'd heard, he had a steady girlfriend.

And now he's gone.

Dear disheveled auditor, thank you. For finding me my job, for being your quirky self, for breathing fresh air into the stuffy world of accounting.

Peace.