Almost twenty years ago I worked with a man on the night shift named Sam Mcsorley. During the five years I worked with Sam I got to know him fairly well and came to realize that he was a drunk that liked to frequent massage parlors and call on prostitutes to visit his apartment.
Only on a couple of occasions did we ever socialize outside of work. Despite limited socializing, we got along just fine. Our off days were staggered on the night shift, so when he was off he would go on a bender and call me at home during the day when I was trying to sleep. Sometimes he would call me at work and be all gooned up and made talk that didn't make any sense. His words would be slurred and when he laughed I could hear the saliva drooling out of his mouth as he hissed through his teeth. But like a fool I would listen for hours and then all of a sudden he would stop talking and there would be a loud crashing noise as he hit the floor. Other times he would fall asleep on the phone and I would hear him snoring. When this happened I would scream into the phone to wake him or simply hang up. Poor Sam, he was such a mess.
You may ask why I didn't merely tell him to stop calling me. I would have, but we worked together and that was something that I needed to keep in mind. So I learned to live with it knowing that I would eventually have to quit because of him.
One night he called me, it was about 3 a.m., he was supposed to be at work but he wasn't because he was drunk and with a prostitute. Apparently he called in sick, so without me at work, there was nobody running the night shift. I listened to him rail on about how he had amazing sex with the prostitute and how she romantically fell asleep in his arms. He then told me that he thought he was in love with her and was going to ask her out on a proper date, preferably one that he didn't have to pay 100 dollars an hour for.
He then started to give me the play by play what he was doing in his apartment. "I'm getting up now. I need to go to the washroom. I walking out of the bedroom. She's still on my bed. I just stubbed my foot on the wall. That really hurt. I'm turning on the light to the washroom. I'm blinded by the light. I'm starting to urinate. Something's wrong. Nothing's coming out. This is bad."
I cut in an said, "Sam, if you can't urinate you should to the emergency immediately."
He then started laughing uncontrollably and said, "I know why I can't piss."
"Why?" I said.
He howled, "I still have the condom on my dick."