First Name: Not "Don", but Ramon; the "Don" before Ramon stands for "Mister" (synonym of señor) in Spanish.
Age: Mid-fifties
Signature traits: Long boney limbs, gray eyes, stiff straight hair that looks like burnt matches and a raspy voice similar to that of a witch stirring a cauldron.
I first met Don Ramon five years ago when he entered the ladies' restroom on the thirteenth floor. He was wearing a cobalt blue onesie, and holding a bucket and a mop.
He was working for the outsourcing cleaning company my workplace had hired, and he'd spend (no kidding) 7 to 7 at the office working silently: dusting our desk tops, scenting the restrooms of vanilla and orange, emptying our trash bins and walking the monstrous vaccuum cleaner around the whole floor as soon as the clock hit six (PM).
He was working for the outsourcing cleaning company my workplace had hired, and he'd spend (no kidding) 7 to 7 at the office working silently: dusting our desk tops, scenting the restrooms of vanilla and orange, emptying our trash bins and walking the monstrous vaccuum cleaner around the whole floor as soon as the clock hit six (PM).
On January of the following year he came up to my desk and asked to talk to me in private.
He was no longer wearing the blue onesie, but a pair of jeans and a care-free T-shirt.
He told me he'd been laid off by the cleaning company and that our office had decided to hire him as part of the administrative staff. I told him I was happy he'd be working with us- and that diligent work always pays off. He took out a folded, worn out piece of paper he had in his jean-pocket and told me this was his labour contract from his previous job and asked me to help him get his severance pay. I typed a few letters for him and well, I assume he got his pay because he left a new souvenir mug (the one our office gives out during fairs and events) on my desk as a Thank You.
For the next couple of years, one would:
bump into Don Ramon as he'd be delivering a tray of ten glasses of water into the meeting room;
or ask him to secretly pour some coffee into one's mug while he made some for the big boss;
or catch him filling in for the receptionist who'd take a two-hour lunchbreak to get her hair straightened and her nails painted.
Year 2019. While other big companies and organizations have young women wearing cleavages and pencil skirts greet you as you walk into their entrance hall, we have:
This entry is obviously not about food yet looking back at Don Ramon's five-year journey makes my belly warm and my heart satisfied.
If I were to portrait Don Ramon,
I'd layout some dove and pigeon feathers, place a wishbone hand-carved out of black walnut on top
And
snap a photograph with a polaroid camera.
For the next couple of years, one would:
bump into Don Ramon as he'd be delivering a tray of ten glasses of water into the meeting room;
or ask him to secretly pour some coffee into one's mug while he made some for the big boss;
or catch him filling in for the receptionist who'd take a two-hour lunchbreak to get her hair straightened and her nails painted.
Year 2019. While other big companies and organizations have young women wearing cleavages and pencil skirts greet you as you walk into their entrance hall, we have:
Don Ramon.
He is officially our receptionist ever since the female receptionist quit her job. And believe it or not, he's the most efficient receptionist I've met. He now combs his hair to the side and wears autumn coloured shirts (amber seems to be his favourite colour) and dark shaded dress pants. He knows most extension numbers by heart and he'll remember the package you told him you'd be receiving two months ago (even if the mailman and you yourself forgot all about it).This entry is obviously not about food yet looking back at Don Ramon's five-year journey makes my belly warm and my heart satisfied.
If I were to portrait Don Ramon,
I'd layout some dove and pigeon feathers, place a wishbone hand-carved out of black walnut on top
And
snap a photograph with a polaroid camera.