2002-02-23 - 12:29 a.m.

**sits down with a flourish, cracks knuckles**

So there's this kinda crazy kid from work. Lotsa meds. I don't know why I never mentioned him here before.

I hired him a year ago. During the interview, I asked him if he knew how to use a computer. He went into a 15-minute dissertation on the benefits of having Novell certification over Microsoft certification.

I couldn't get him to shut up.

My interviews usually last one minute or less.

The Crazy Meds Guy is in his late 20�s. Semitic. Disheveled in his movements and appearance, like one suffering from Alzheimer's.

Excellent vocabulary.

Even though I had just hired a bunch of people, I trained him alone (so as not to frighten other new hires and also so as to not make the training session last way, way longer than it should have). I kinda liked him.

By the way, this story requires unnecessary backstory. Some things have developed since I wrote this, by the way (one of my first entries).

The first couple of Crazy Meds guy�s months were rocky. He'd leave laborious voicemail messages for potential respondents, would get cut off, and would call the person back to finish the message. He'd spaz out for no discernable reason, and it was a massive effort to get him to quiet down.

It was difficult for anyone to get any work done around him.

And everyone (but me) was afraid that he'd come into the office and shoot us all.

But he did have a great sense of humor. He permanently won me over when he told me that he had to "put some Gin in his je ne sais quois."

Yeah, he was really annoying. But yeah, he was a good person. My side still hurts from all of the thorny interviewers the Big Company has stuck in it. But this kid was different.

I didn't mind having to mind him.

And I helped him. He frequently discussed me with his psychologist. The other boss and I were his introduction to the standard codes and behaviors of having a job kind of world.

Discipline. You can't just say out loud whatever comes into your head (usually). You can't go up to other people in the company who have nothing to do with you and talk their ear off. And when you do, don't take their politeness as a sign that you should bother them more often.

Imagine being in charge, in a company mind you, of a brilliant man with the emotional capacity of a child, and who has absolutely no social "filter" (or "conscience," both for lack of better words).

And he looks up to you. And you kinda identify with him.

He'd spaz out on some kind of tangent. If we were at a party, say, I'd gladly listen to his spaz. But not at work. So I'd say

Dial and smile!

Rocking, he'd excitedly repeat the statement a couple of times and repeatedly and quickly rub his head from back to front, causing quite the scene, but he'd then focus his lazer attention on his phone work.

And he grew up!

It's like he doesn't need me anymore. I'm kinda sad.

Dealing with him, I honestly felt like I was helping him. And now he's a little better for having known me. He's very good at his job now. He doesn't spaz out as much anymore. Also, he doesn't need me anymore.

I'm very, very, very proud of him.

So C. (from work) and I went out for a drink with him (he had a Coke, by the way). I had let everyone out a half-hour early, but he usually sticks around anyway. He had some plans, but kinda put 'em on hold. He was very excited.

I had been meaning to go out with him for about two months, but the right time just never happened. He was a little too psychotic here, I didn't have the money or had prior obligations there. Trust me, you don't want to ask this dude out for a beer at the wrong time.

But it was fun.

He talked very candidly about his mental illnesses to C. (from work). He's done much the same at work.

He had smoked half a joint on the way to the bar (self-medication). He was kind of mellowed out. Not Senor Spaz.

Talking with him outside of work, where I didn't have to control his behavior, I got on with him pretty well.

The whole time I was kicking myself for not having asked him out for a beer earlier.

He's one up on me here--he's got a goal and the plan that comes with it.

He's gonna work at the Big Company 'till his parents (who are semi-supporting him) are convinced that he's OK. Then, he's gonna get a job more suited to his degree (Master's by the way).

After a couple, we walked to our respective train stations. We passed by the Big Company on the way, but none of us really noticed. I was going to Government Center, C. (from work) and the Crazy Meds guy both ambulated towards Park Street.

They were headed opposite directions--same station, though. I hope that Crazy Meds guy willingly left C. (from work) alone when the time came to split rails.