A few days ago I was alerted that my friend Leota was celebrating a birthday and wanted me to be there. Somehow I mixed up the days and missed the event. So I made arrangements to see her at the apartment where she lived comfortably within walking distance of my home.

We had a nice visit. She was her, I was me, and our personalities connected as always before.

I knocked on the door and was granted entry and her first words were, “I don’t know you.”

As soon as I started talking, that changed. Last time she’d seen me I had a bald chin and this time I’d both aged and properly clothed the chin with beard.

Her hospice nurse was there. So I went back later that day and had her all to myself for an hour or so. Her daughter in law was there with two children at first, but they went away. We got to catch up and it was a pleasant visit. Another friend eventually showed up so I left also with an invitation to return often.

Lee, as she was known, came on to the scene decades ago at the place where I was working. She trained as a bill collector, something she had the right temperament for after running a bar and owning a small business.  There are tired cliche’s about bill collectors and none of them applied to her. She telephoned the debtors, explained who she was and what she wanted to accomplish with their cooperation and then made the arrangements. She was not unkind and she was a good representative of the job done right. Those who were willing to do the right thing, she worked with them to make it happen. Those who were unwilling or unable, she skip traced and verified what needed verified and then moved on. Those who had the means to pay but refused to do it, she left in the hands of specialists who could get payment for the doctors, dentists, or hospitals who hired us for that purpose.

She was an able worker, the sort the boss called a ‘plugger’ because she wasn’t a high production go getter but she plugged along and held her own. She was a good worker with a good work ethic.

Her voice was gruff. Debtors thought she was a man and the name didn’t disqualify that assumption.  She was never one for doing the stupid trickery that substandard employees could be counted on to try. No cherry picking accounts, no sloppy paperwork, no fake documentation in the software, no arguing with debtors, no wasted days filled with social media.

Leota was an old style wage earner, focus on earner.

She also amused me. She was able to make computers do the impossible. For awhile we had our people make calls for a large client who wanted to catch up on their accounts receivable back log. Leota got her computer to do something that supposedly wasn’t possible in those early days of Windows for Workgroups. Now I can’t recall what it was. No one could duplicate it.

She telephoned me one Saturday about a problem she was experiencing with her work station and I tried to walk her through to a solution but ended up going to the office got it fixed for her. She was not a “computer person” and didn’t realize that an odd behavior of the software we used made it necessary to tell me that she was doing a certain step that worked differently on a “screen” than on a “menu”. She was fine when showed the way around whatever strange thing the computer wanted to do because her approach to life was practical. Very practical.

I’d hazard to say Leota was completely trustworthy.

Among her accomplishments at the office, she collected the unofficial but very real bonus the boss paid to those who quit smoking for a year. She got it twice because she quit smoking that long twice. $100 each time.

There is an awning over the back door to the office where the smokers liked to gather. I found her out there after she’d quit the two times and asked why.

She said, “I’m smoking because of YOU! You stress me out. It’s for my health. If I don’t smoke, then my anxiety reaches dangerous levels. Smoking calms me.”

Partly, she was kidding, and she did have a nickname for me, “the brat!”. She liked to say that I could drive anyone to drinking. We teased each other.  If I should happen to live right and make it back to our heavenly home, eventually she’ll find me there and ask, “How did YOU get here? Must have bribed someone.”

And then we’ll hug and get caught up on each others lives.

Today I was messaged by my daughter that I should get over there if I wanted to see Leota again.

Alas, she was gone before I reached her door.

I don’t have a photo to post here and it wouldn’t do her justice anyway. She was my kind of people. No pretense. No mischief (technically true).

As I walked home from the too late visit, grateful for sunglasses, I spied a car in a back yard. I wondered what it was. A pedal car? Go cart? Micro car?

I smiled when I got a closer look.

Once a car guy, always a car guy.

It was a humorous distraction from the realization that I won’t be visiting Leota again.

I’m so glad I knew her!