Today is officially June 1. A co-worker of mine (a restaurant manager) died June 1, 2002.
Back when Gene had the D&D guys at the house on Sundays, sometimes I'd go to the office to get some work done. At that point, my employer had fired the payroll clerk and hadn't hired a satisfactory replacement. That meant I handled benefits and payroll. (This went on until the company hired D, long after my wedding in July 2002). But I digress…
The Sunday before June 1, I was at work handling (oh, hell, who knows? Let's say) enrollment forms when my phone rang. Out boomed the voice of this manager, who I will refer to as M. "HOOKER!" she shouted (she was from somewhere in NY and definitely had the accent and mannerism). I have no idea how she came up with calling me the Payroll Hooker but I loved it anyway. She had called to leave me a message – it wasn't a known thing that I was at the office some Sundays and was surprised to actually get me live. We had a great chat.
A week later, she died of a massive heart attack, standing at the hostess stand at her restaurant. She was the GM (General Manager, top banana) of that location – at that time, we didn't have a lot of female GMs in the company – and she wanted that position so badly that she almost left to go work for another chain. The next day was a Monday and I remember Old Boss giving me the news. M. left behind two sons and a daughter and a husband. I saw them at the calling before the service. I introduced myself to M's widower and he said (not shouted, of course) "The Payroll Hooker!".
I am absolutely surprised that 4 years have passed since all of this. My buddy D never knew her and I feel like I've known D forever. (It's a shame they didn't cross paths – I think the three of us could have really thrown back some 'ritas).
It's late, and that's quite enough morose stuff. 'Night!