The words of a dying man

In my first post, I promised I would deliver a little background history into how Nostco Construction came to be and for that, I would have to go back to the words of a dying man.

It was in the fall of the year 2000, I was paying my way through University by working at a busy Restaurant in Toronto. The two owners were fraternal twins and though one of them was physically healthy, the other had visible physical abnormalities. Two of the nicest guys one could ever hope to meet, they were great people to work for. They were like the wise older brothers to all the employees and took care of us like caring fathers.

From the perspective of an eager and inspiring youth, ready to take on the world and stake my claim, my bosses had it all...the ideal role models. Here were two guys who gave up their...well, let's be honest...boring careers as Engineers and at the ripe age of thirty or so embarked on the noble journey of entrepreneurship and opened up one of the most "happening" joints in Toronto. They had it all, the money, the freedom of schedule, the attention, minor celebrity status (trust me on that) and they hadn't even hit 40 yet.

So as I was working and looking up to them, they were running the place and watching me. I was a good employee and one day one of them pulled me aside for a drink at the bar after my shift. He sat me down and began praising my efforts...this was different, it was as if he was looking for a reason to strike up conversation. Then he got quiet and started drifting off, then he wasn't saying anything anymore. He just sat there, with the 1000 yard stare into nothing. Maybe a minute passed, in silence, as if I wasn't there anymore...as if nobody was there anymore. I waited, not knowing what was happening, and his eyes began tearing up. He turned to me and dropped the bomb..."My brother is dying, he only has a few months left".

His physical abnormalities were the result of complications at birth, visibly, he was hunched and had under developed limbs. Underneath, the complications were worse and had reached a fatal point.

The news was stunning and I was speechless. The man carried himself so well and had a personality that drew everyone he ever came in contact with. He had the charisma of Frank Sinatra, truly one of those uniquely talented/gifted individuals that could stop a crowded and bustling room merely by his entrance. There was no hint or clue to his condition, he masked it and carried on with strength. I was lost.

He asked me to keep it a secret, so I did. His brother wasn't fazed, he still showed up and ran the place as if all was normal.

The next day I showed up after the "lunch rush" and was waiting to clock in for my shift. This usually meant grabbing an espresso and taking a seat at the bar to watch T.V. The brother came and sat next to me. We were watching Golf and shooting the breeze.

"Man, you know how much that Tiger Woods makes in a year?" I quipped.

"Yeah, he does quite well" he replied.

Then a little while later, "You go to U of T right, that's my Alma Mater...so, what are you majoring in?" he asked.

He never asked personal questions like that before. "Literature", I told him.

"You like working here? You like your job?" He asked.

Was I getting fired? Where was this question coming from? Was this because I left the Gnocci in the fridge for too long? But alas, I have a problem... I can't tell a lie.

"I love working for you, but no I don't like the job...I hate the job". I mean, who really likes working in a Restaurant? I thought he would appreciate the honesty and brown nosing isn't my thing.

"So why do you do it?"

Was he serious?..."I need the money" I replied.

And here were the words that changed my life, what stopped me in my tracks...

"Peter, take my word for it...life is too short to spend a day doing something that you don't love".

He did not know that I knew, but the weight of those words, coming from that man, at that time brought on such guilt it was almost too much to bear. I sank in my seat, took a deep breath and didn't have the courage to look into his eyes. He patted my shoulder, got up and left.

He passed away about 8 months later.

R.I.P. Vince.

Your life inspired much more than you ever knew.

I thought I looked up to those guys because of what they had, it was only later that I realized that the true inspiration came from something a lot deeper. In his memory and because of his wisdom, I forsook seemingly logical alternatives to a career choice and with almost blatant disregard for economic gains followed in the path of work I'm passionate about...and to quote Frost... And that has made all the difference.

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