On Friends as Family (Part 2 of 2)

(Note: This is Part 2 of a post.  Part 1 can be found here.)

Example 2:

I started working at Roche in October 2002. I was a very slow starter in terms of warming up to people there, especially since they didn't really seem to have a plan for me when I first started. I just kind of floated around for about a month, until I finally got placed in one of the groups that did testing for the manufacturing team. Our testing site was about 50 miles away from the manufacturing site, so the rest of our department was all located at the other site. As a result, we were a very tight-knit little group, relying on each other for everything because we were all we had, and we became resilient and remarkably effective because of that.

Our manager, Pam, was a very strong advocate for getting to know the rest of the manufacturing team that we now worked with. She organized a little field trip up to the manufacturing site, where we met with people, talked about how processes worked, and tried to figure out how we fit into the scheme of it all. I admit I don't remember very much of the trip, but I did meet an awful lot of people that day. Hell, I still wasn't real clear on who the people in my own group were, let alone the 30 or 40 other people I met. But apparently I made an impression on at least a few of them...

Fast forward a couple of years. I'd been reorganized again, and I was absolutely miserable. I'd been taken away from the rest of my little group, ostensibly so that I could learn more about new processes and take on new responsibilities – but what actually happened was that everything I'd built up so far had been taken away from me, and I was expected to start from scratch. Obviously, I didn't respond well to that prospect, and I was doing anything I could to get away from that situation, without much success, so I was starting to self-destruct. One day, I got an email from one of my former coworkers in the manufacturing team – he'd recommended me for an open position they had, doing projects for their group. I put in my application right away, of course, and was almost immediately accepted.

Transition into the new position was tough. The woman who was training me retired before my transition finished, so I had to do everything I could to get information and support when I needed it. More often than not, I ended up going to the person who recommended me for the job.

Somehow, I was still the same slow starter, at least socially, when I moved into the new position. But as I started to get more comfortable in my work, I started to open up a bit. Once again, more often than not, I ended up with the same person.

John.

It started slowly, like most friendships do as adults. As you grow up, you'll be less willing to trust people automatically, at least past a certain level. So it started with him showing infinite patience and support for my work. I had a LOT of questions, and he always made time to help me. He'd stop by once in a while just to chat, or I'd go over to ask him a question and end up staying for half an hour or more. I started finding myself listening to him in a way I hadn't done in a long time – there was always something to learn if I listened long enough. So, I did.

I'm embarrassed to say it took me a while to realize that I'd probably learned to listen to him because he was so damned good at it himself. He'd remember things I'd mentioned in passing. He'd notice when I needed help or support or a friendly face, often before I'd even gotten a chance to ask. As I started paying attention, I noticed the care that he put into all of his work, and the respect he has for the needs of those around him. (Those who know him might be surprised by that statement, to which I simply say, look closer.) More times than I care to admit, I've found myself in a difficult situation – whether work or personal – and I've always been able to turn to him for the support, understanding, and insight I've needed. And never once has he ever asked for anything in return.

Of course, this has come to mean that I will always do the same for him.

In a lot of ways, I think I recognized a lot of the same qualities in John that I see in myself. Listening to his insights is like seeing into my own soul. Like Molly, he believes in doing what's right and what's best for everyone. He's good, and caring, and generous, and self-sacrificing to a fault – in a lot of other ways, I think he's the kind of person I aspire to be. What continually amazes me about John is that he sees so much of the hidden parts of people, which often gives him a deeper faith in other people than they have in themselves. For all that we got a slow start, it didn't take long for him to become one of the most important people in my life. I'll be forever grateful that he stuck his neck out for me, because it gave me the opportunity to know him.

Example 3:

There aren't a lot of people who can say that they made a friend via what might be construed as sexual harassment. I'm proud to say I'm one of the few.

It was 2001. Chris had joined an internet community and was making friends. I'd joined, but not really participated, so I didn't really know people. Some of Chris' friends had a housewarming party just after New Year's, and we decided to go. There were a LOT of people there, and I was kind of overwhelmed. Chris went up to the loft to play guitar with a friend, and I sat on the couch downstairs by myself and just watched. After a while, a guy came over, introduced himself, and struck up a conversation with me. A couple minutes later, a female friend of the guy came up to us, informed me that the guy was gay and didn't like boobs, and convinced me that the best thing to do about this was to bump into him repeatedly with our chests. Well, given how bored I'd been, this sounded like a stellar idea to me.

Afterward she introduced herself as Jess. We talked for a while, had a good time, and hit it off pretty well. A few weeks later, she had a going-away party for her boyfriend Matt, up in Rhode Island where they were in college together. Matt was spending a semester in France, and she wanted to give him a surprise sendoff. She invited a bunch of people from the internet community, including me and Chris. (I guess the boobs made an impression, so to speak?) Chris and I had always talked about how the farthest north we'd been was New York City, so this seemed like an ideal opportunity to rectify that.
We had a grand old time at the party (as did the rest of the folks). We wound up staying with Matt and Jess overnight, getting to know them a lot more, and … this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Since then, we've traveled together, visited each other, been in each other's weddings. There's been laughter, tears, fighting, making up, you name it. Even though we're so far away, we've been through so much of life together – through phone calls, email, online chatting, visiting for weekends or longer...
I remember a couple of occasions where I'd get a phone call at a random hour of the night (usually not too terribly late, but random enough). She'd be upset over something Matt had said, and she'd tell me about it, and I'd help her see where he was coming from (even if she didn't agree). It's almost uncanny – she thinks so much like Chris, and I think so much like Matt, that each of us can help the other figure out how to deal with any difficult situations.
At the same time, whenever I'm frustrated, or am thinking something stupid, or just need to vent, Jess is one of the people on whom I rely most. She's so often the voice of sanity for me. She's not afraid to tell me that I'm being stupid, or tell me I'm wrong, or just that maybe I'm not seeing the whole picture. And I know that she'll be honest with me, tell me what I need to know and not what I want to hear. And I know that when she needs it, I'll do the same for her, because we both know that it's coming from a place of love. Jess loves openly, honestly, and deeply, and I am eternally grateful for her choosing to share that with me.



I'm going to let you draw your own conclusions from these stories.
Love,
JRM