45 degrees, I’ll take it for Chicago spring weather.I thought as I left my apartment for work. It was the middle of the morning and I was heading to my office in downtown Chicago.
“You know, I’m 65 years old and I have a broken knee and replaced hip; I just can’t run anymore,” said the elderly woman, sporting a suit with salt and pepper hair. “I am thankful the bus driver waited for me to get on as I need to get to work pronto.”
The bus was practically empty, apart from the man sitting in the last row waiting for his stop. I was sitting midway through the bus, situated near the right window, facing forward. I was also on my way to work, but had no problem catching the bus. When the woman stepped on, she paid and stayed put at the front for a few minutes. I made the assumption she was just waiting to get off. When the bus arrived at the next stop, she picked up her rolling briefcase and large shoulder bag and walked to a seat right in front of me – typically reserved for people with disabilities. She sat there about two feet away from me, breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
“Having a good day?” I asked, half bored and half curious as to what was going on. She turned to me and explained that she was just too old to be running to the bus anymore. I asked her where she was going, she replied “work,” in a tone that appeared as if it was a drag. At 65, she was still working and didn’t seem very happy about it. My curiosity was peaked enough to keep digging.
She then asked me where I was going. “Heading to work as well,” I said. She gave me a strange look. Noticing it was 10 a.m., it’s as if she was under the impression I was late. I quickly stated, “but I work for myself.” I continued to tell her about my wearable technology startup for people living with dementia and how we work to keep people who wander safe. As if on cue, she said:
One of my very close friends is going through this right now. It’s just horrible to see. She was an extremely bright attorney who lived right here. Now she can’t remember dates or even who I am. I worry about her often, but her family says she is okay living alone.
This conversation is not something new. I have become comfortable and almost put into a habit when I mention my startup to people of her age bracket. Something along those lines usually comes out.
I comforted my new acquaintance, guiding her through the discussion around the difficulties of caring for someone with dementia. At this point in the conversation, I sometimes feel like a fraud. My ownership of the topic is only secondhand, not through the experience of caring for someone with dementia.
We continued talking. I then got to ask my burning question: “What do you do?” She replied:
I work in the attorney general’s office under environmental affairs as a supervisor. I manage six attorneys who keep leaving. I sit in between the attorneys and the attorney general and help with management and tying up loose ends. As an office, we help to prosecute large corporations that are harming the public. It is pretty rewarding all in all.
That was it; I was intrigued. The woman sitting a few feet from me, who just ran to the bus with a broken knee and replaced hip, had this big, prestigious position with the state – a job that few hold. Without peaking into her life and thoughts, I would have never discovered her purpose.
As I was getting close to my stop, I asked my final question; the question that drives me to do what I do and I strive that others around me do too. “Do you enjoy your job?” I asked. She paused for a good minute before answering.
“Yes,” she said with hesitation. “Well you know, I could have retired three years ago and had full benefits in retirement, but I get to affect peoples’ lives every day. I feel like I am really making a difference for the people of Chicago.”
Before the bus pulled to a halt, I took out my wallet and grabbed a business card. As I stood up, I gave her a card and said: “Thank you for all you do. Have a great day!”
She smiled at me as I walked off the bus. It is these human moments of spontaneous connection that excite me in life and drive me to continue asking questions to strangers.