Breakfast with Tiffany

“I’m going to have to let you go. We’re not financially stable right now and – as a result – we’re restructuring. We’re letting numerous people go. It’s not you – we’re just downsizing until we can restructure to the approval of the investors. I’m asking you to clean out your cubicle by five o’clock tonight. Thanks for your time.”

Those were the words from my supervisor’s mouth one Friday afternoon and just before the holiday. The company had pulled this shit before, but it never impacted me. They always made things look good on paper and then the company would be acquired. I had been there five years and the company had been acquired at least three different times. Me and my co-workers had become numb to it.

I swear I could’ve punched my supervisor in the face – his smug and condescending attitude. He didn’t care about me. Christ, he never even offered to give me a reference. I never liked him anyway, but c’mon. What the hell did he expect me to do? I mean really.

I didn’t have much to pack in a box, so my exit was quick. I walked out the front door – after handing in my access badge of course – and headed west down Tulsa Avenue. I lived about ten blocks away in an apartment, which was nothing extravagant and had the basic amenities. It wasn’t a studio, but it was only one bedroom with a small kitchen, a small bathroom, and a walk-through living area. The rent was manageable given my current salary, but I was concerned about my immediate future. Living in the city was challenging – financially.

My immediate need was to find another job and the first thing I needed to do was update my resume. I entered my apartment and placed the box of personal belongings on the counter next to the refrigerator. I went to my bedroom, changed clothes, and returned to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and took stock. Nothing, I had nothing except two beers and several containers of leftovers from the week that I took from my favorite restaurants. So, I grabbed a beer, chugged it down and grabbed the other. Having no food certainly wouldn’t get me too far.

My rent was fifteen hundred a month and that didn’t include utilities. I knew I hadn’t been able to save too much in the past five years, but I was forced working with what I had. I opened my bank app and gazed at the number – almost in disbelief. Twenty-three thousand and some change. Holy shit!

I walked the few steps to the couch and threw myself down.

Looking around the apartment, I realized I didn’t have much in the way of material items – a couch, a small TV, an old table that seated two but only had one chair, and a toaster. I had a mattress in the bedroom and that was it.

At that moment, I realized that I had used up most of my income for the care of my grandparents who were both in assisted living. They were in the same facility but had no idea they were both there because my grandmother suffered from dementia and my grandfather…well, he was significantly older than my grandmother and was just old. Between the two, it cost me about five thousand dollars a month.

Simple math told me I could only get through a few months without landing a new job. It certainly concerned me, but I was confident it wouldn’t be an issue – even without my supervisor’s reference.

Before I decided to update my resume, I phoned the assisted living facility and explained my situation and asked how I could pre-pay for my grandparents. I made the payments – four months’ worth – and felt good knowing my grandparents would be taken care of for the short term. Sadly, my sacrifice would mean I had two short months in my apartment with utilities and all.

I spent the next two months seeking employment in the city. Interview after interview and nothing. I leaned on some previous colleagues who had landed new jobs, but to no avail. Time was ticking away, and I had begun to panic.

I knew it was inevitable that I wouldn’t be able to make rent and that I’d have to eventually move out. And then the day came, as the landlord made a personal visit. I explained my situation, but he was less than sympathetic. In fact, he gave me three days to get out.

I had nowhere to go and no means for taking my personal items – besides the clothes on my back. Admittedly, the gravity of the situation hadn’t really set in, as I packed most of my clothes in a small suitcase and strung two pair of extra shoes across the handle. I grabbed my only coat and flung it across my shoulders.

Closing the apartment door behind me, I began to sense homelessness and the idea of loneliness. I entered the elevator and began the long journey down to the lobby.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out and into the lobby for the last time. I handed over my keys to the attendant and dragged my suitcase out the revolving door and into the street. It was dark and the air was stale. The smell of trash overcame me, as I headed west and down Tulsa Avenue, having no idea where to go.

I had walked about five blocks when I noticed my favorite restaurant. What I wouldn’t have given to eat their again, but those days were gone. Angst quickly filled my mind – and my soul. I walked past as if I’d been homeless for some time and not welcome.

Just past the restaurant, was an alley and I turned and entered. I placed my back to the outside wall of the restaurant and slid down. I could smell my favorite dish and sat there breathing in the aroma. I had heard of rock-bottom before, but I couldn’t be sure I had reached it. I remained confident I’d still find a job, but my cell phone would certainly be shut off soon. And my bank account was gone – other than three dollars and some change.

I pulled my knees up to rest my elbows and planted my face in my hands. What had happened? How could this have happened to me? Tears began running down my face and dripping on my pants.

I sat for the entire night and when I finally had the courage to open my eyes, I noticed a cat sitting approximately five feet from me and staring. It sat still and staring except for its tail, which moved slowly back and forth in curiosity. I wasn’t a cat lover, but I reached out my hand and leaned forward. The cat reciprocated by raising its front paw. It then quickly rose and turned and scampered back the alley and behind the restaurant.

Curious, I rose and followed.

As I turned the corner, I noticed the cat by the restaurant’s back door and beside the dumpster. It was eating scraps off a table from the previous night – as if the scraps had been intentionally placed there. I walked closer and noticed some bread and the remains of my favorite dish. Feeling hungry, I stepped to the table and began to help myself. The cat never moved.

Then the door to the restaurant opened. A man began yelling at me to get lost. I apologized and attempted to explain why I was there. I felt the cat had led me and he wasn’t surprised, as he explained the cat was once a stray and that he had adopted it. The cat lived in the restaurant – in the back room. He went on to say that he cared for it and occasionally let it outside.

The man questioned my appearance indicating that I didn’t look homeless. So, I explained it had been a very recent development and that I was willing to take any work. He said he needed some help and agreed to give me a shot for a week or so.

In the end, the arrangement was a great success. I moved from position to position until finally I was promoted to general manager. I was able to keep my grandparents in their assisted living facilities and my life got back on track due to the kindness of the man and a cat named Tiffany, but mostly Tiffany. I took boarding in one of the upstairs apartments and was permitted to keep Tiffany with me.

A few years later, I was working and doing my normal rounds from table to table asking all the patrons if they were satisfied with their meals and service. As I rounded the front wall, I noticed my old supervisor and approached his table as any other.

I told him who I was, and he asked how I had been and that he was glad I was able to find work, to which I replied, “No thanks to you. Your lack of class and compassion caused me much grief and forced me into life-altering circumstances. I had better luck getting help from a cat than you.”