Benchmarking

He was so still. That was what made me notice him.

I seemed to pass him every time I walked to work. He was sat on the bench looking out over the river, hunched up in an old shabby trench coat and dark brown trilby hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked dirty and almost wrong for the time – an old tramp sat on the bench.

Next to him, resting against the back of the bench was his bike. A really tatty black sit up affair, seat all patched up with tape, a basket on the front, wreathed in bags and a rack on the back with a wooden box strapped onto it. He seemed to have his whole worldly goods on this bike and that when he moved around, all his possessions went with him.

Every time I saw him, I had an urge to stop and speak to him – he looked like a man with a huge pile of stories to tell. But, we all know how it is – always needing to get somewhere, always in a rush. So it was not until I lost my job that I did stop and sit down with him.

In late 2008, the banking sector collapsed and I was one of the many people made redundant. I came in, got my letter, emptied my desk and stepped out into the weak winter sunshine and walked out towards the river. There he was, on the bench, looking out at the seagulls and the odd boat fighting against the current.

I sat down and he did not look around. My box was on my knees and I sat there with him, enjoying the peace.

After about 5 minutes, I turned my head an asked him “Ok to sit here with you”. He did not look at me but said in a gruff quiet voice “Sure you can boy”.
“I’ve seen you here quite often – I work, no used to work, in the office behind you there” and nodded my head behind me. “I just lost my job”.
“Oh. Sorry about that”.
“Well, banking is not a good business to be in right now” I said, reaching for my cigarettes. “Want one”? I asked.
“Nah son. No good for you”.
And then he did turn to me.
“What you want to poison yourself with them stinking things for”?
His eye were blue – bright blue. His face was tanned and his scruffy grey beard (if you could call it that) was covering a lined and creased face that has seen much weather and time.

I looked down at my hand with the cigarette in it and shrugged, guilty now about lighting up.

“No work today then son”? he asked, still looking at me.
“No, no work today, tomorrow, or for the foreseeable future – just become a victim of the credit crunch. Lost my job at the bank, so need to consider my options”.
“Oh dear. I am sorry” he said. “What are your options then?”
A truly good question. I was 27, single, living in a rented one room apartment in the Barbican. No savings to speak of, a deposit on a holiday in the Seychelles (organised by work colleagues, now very much at risk as they were sacked too) and very little experience in job hunting. I have an average degree in History, a basic accounting qualification and 2 years experience as a junior trader in equities.

“Well I should be OK” I replied trying to look brave and noting the situation of the man next to me. “I have qualifications and I can start looking around”.
“Did you see it coming”? he asked.
I looked at him again. Yes, I bloody well should have seen it coming. The signs were there in massive neon lit letters, the press speculation was rife and just about everyone else on my team had their CV’s out at least a month ago. Now I had a very small pay-off from the administrator and the rent due in 10 days. I also have no reference and would be one of hundreds out there looking for jobs.

“Sort of” I replied. “I thought the senior management would work it out, you know”. Did he I wondered after I said it?

“Yeah, well things in business can change pretty fast I reckon. Markets move, demand shifts and well, cash is always under pressure. I had a business. In fact I had lots of things. Houses, cars, staff. But I can’t be doing with that now. I am past it and well, I have no heart for it see. I am done with being part of the crowd. I just want to sit here, look back at my life and wait for my maker to call.”

This was so sad. I was worried for him.
“Tell me why you want to be so alone – if you don’t mind of course? Can I help?”
“Ah please son, I am fine. You should look after yourself, not think about me. I am really very content to take my own chances”.

I was worried about him though, and I wanted to know more – if only to stop me from facing up to the trouble I was in.
“Look, why don’t I get us a cup of coffee and then you tell me how what you want to about your past. I am interested, really. Can you watch my box? How do you want your coffee?”

10 minutes later, I had a Grande Latte and he had a strong tea and we sat there together looking out over the river. It was 11 o’clock and the water was dark muddy brown and moving along fast with the tide. It felt good to be sitting there, just looking.

“I was 47 when she died.” He said right out of nowhere. I was miles away and almost missed it. He spoke quietly and stayed looking at the river. “Don’t talk about it much. She was the light and love of my life. Radiant woman, the type everyone remembered and always asked about. She could talk to anyone – Lords, beggars, rascals and Bishops. She was a true lady but such great fun too”.

I could see a sort of smile under his beard and his eyes twinkled.

“We met when I was overseas – Australia it was. She was a research chemist and I had some work to do over there. I was in mining and we ended up being together at a conference. We talked for ages and I knew I was smitten. When I got home I missed her so much it was like a deep nagging pain in my guts. We used to phone and write but I had to see her again, so I arranged for her to come up here. I had commitments, family and work, so she came here. She hated the weather but loved the history, Europe and luckily me. She gave up her life at home to be with me.

“We went everywhere together and we were almost inseparable for 25 years. She had some headaches, used to be a bit forgetful sometimes and although she went to the doctor, he never found a problem. Time passed and it got worse and her sight went in her left eye. I remember it now – I was driving and she said I can’t see you Charles, you still there? I was there but she could not see me.

“After loads more tests and scans they said 3 months to live. No chance of a cure – tumour and still growing. We travelled about a bit again but we spent as much time as we could here, in London, at home.

“We always liked benches, especially by the water. We used to look at the river, the buildings and the people moving about and wonder what they were doing, what they were like.

“Last bench we sat at was here. This very bench. I marked them all but this one was the last. I used to make a little carving of a squirrel – she loved pets and wildlife you see and we saw a mouse on one of our first trips”. And he shifted along and we both looked down and sure enough I saw the little carved outline of a squirrel with two pointy ears and a bushy tail. He smiled again – at least I think he did. “She used to tell me off – Charlie you should not mess up those benches, someday you will get caught! But I didn’t”.

He stopped and looked at me and said “Son, if you find the one, if you know that you are in love, don’t let it go! Don’t wait, take it and cherish it because things change and you can never get the time back”.

He was really intense I was taken aback by his eyes that drove right into my head.

“She passed away at home one day and I was there with her”. He carried on. “We did the funeral, wake and all, but I knew I could not stay in that house, around those people. No one needed me anyway, they all knew what to do and I was in the way more often than not. I got my stuff, bought my old bike – Walter I call it, Walter Raleigh!” and he chuckled so childishly. “And I went off. I travel around and look for our benches – the ones we marked. I have been all over on Walter. When I need cash I find a shop and help out, or work on a farm or hand out leaflets. I am no trouble. Too old to be trouble now”! Another of his chuckles.

“But I had to come back and sit here. I am not in my best health and I reckon my time is coming too now. I don’t have the energy and the cold weather this year will be hard I reckon. So I came back, sat on our last bench and then I will head back to my house I suppose”.

He stopped, lost in thought, staring at the river. I was amazed. He had a home but chose to live rough. He had a wonderful life but when his darling wife died, he went away on his own. How shallow am I?

The loud burst of “Sex on Fire” made me start and I snatched the phone from my inside pocket. “Hello – yeah, by the river…. Sure. Where. OK, see you in 15 minutes”.

“It’s the blokes from my office – the equities team and that. They are in the pub down by St Pauls and I said I would meet them. Could help me with a job and I could do with a drink actually….”

He looked round and I stood. “Well that’s good son” he said. “You go, be careful and I am sure something will turn up”.
“I really am glad I met you” I said, meaning every word.
“Me too son. What is your name by the way”?
“Oh Richard, Rcky. Here, my card – mobile still shows the right number but if I can help, please do call me”. I meant that too.
“Right son. I am Charlie – Charlie Bayliss. Off you go then and don’t worry. You are a bright lad and you care about people – you will be fine”.

I shook his hand and was really sorry to leave him. I was bothered that he was feeling down and whilst I am sure things were in his control, I was troubled that he was ill.

That was almost three months ago. It was this morning when I got a phone call.
“Mr Richard Blake please”, said the well spoken man, as I looked at the handset which read “unknown caller”.
“Speaking” I said. It was noisy in the Starbucks café and I was waiting for the latest in a long line of recruitment consultants, this one late like several others.
“Mr Blake, I am Brian Bayliss of Bayliss Global Mining. I understand that some months ago you met my father. His name was Charles – Charlie he often called himself.”
Oh my God – the old man, on the bench.
“I did meet a Charlie on a bench by the river”. I said.
“Look, last week my father died. He was ill and we saw him briefly before he went into hospital. He left a will and you were mentioned. But first, I need to check something please. Did my father show you something on the bench?”
“I am so sorry” I said, very upset now at the news. “Charlie – your father made a big impression on me. He was such a nice man and his story was so sad.”
“Thank you – we loved him a great deal and missed him terribly. But the bench….”
“Oh yes. A squirrel, he marked them you know, with a squirrel”.
“That’s right. Good. Well Mr Blake, we want to meet you. My father suggested that if you were open to a discussion that you would be an asset to our firm. We need young management grade people and my father was very impressed. When can you get to us – how is next week”?

Last week I went back to that bench, and made my own mark – Bless you Charlie.