ATTACKED! How a Drunken Stoned Homeless Man and a Job Seeker Made My Week Hell

I’m certainly glad last week is history, because it was a hell of a week – or rather a week of hell.

It started off well, the usual business of running a business. But towards the end of the week, I was lucky to get out with my life.

Thursday evening I was in the poor, rundown, Yonge and College street area of Toronto for the Wildsound Film Festival. It’s a great little unknown gem of a film fest, where five to six independently produced short films from around the world are shown in one night, and everyone attending gets to participate in the discussions about the films.

In keeping with the ambiance of the magic of movie making, the Wildsound Film Festival takes place in one of the oldest movie houses in Toronto – the Carlton Cinemas. It’s a historic building, one of the first movie theatres in the city, and it’s got a lot of amazing character, with much of it’s original architectural wooden rustic design and charm.

There are also historic movie posters, and wonderful works of art by local artists on display, reminding you of what it was like to watch a movie before the megaplexes of today, with their raked cinema seating, and sticky soda-pop-soaked floors.

Although the theatre shines as a beacon from a time long since gone, when going to the movies was an event, not just another night out, the surrounding neighborhood has become an urban slum.

There are always homeless people lying on the sewer grates and pan-handling passersby from just about every corner, as the crumbling infrastructure of low income subsidized apartments crashes into the skyline of the modernized recently built condos, both fighting for their equal space in a city with a hidden reality.

It’s a sad silent reality sweeping across Canada’s largest city – wealthy building and construction firms buy entire city blocks, while their executives “donate” to politician’s political campaigns, so that their requests to demolish the older, rental units and put up luxurious high-rise condos get passed.

Sure, residents of the rental units get first dibs on the new condos which replace their rental apartments – but think about it – if you could afford to buy a condo – wouldn’t you already be living in a condo? Those who rent can’t afford to buy, and so they end up being tossed out of their homes, so some greedy land developer can make a mint off of their prime real estate.

This problem gets worse, as the numbers of rental units falls, due to the increase in condos built.

As this sad silent reality has been going on for some time, the numbers of people homeless in Toronto has skyrocketed.

And that’s very evident from the horrors which I experienced last Thursday, as we stopped into a local McDonald’s to grab a quick bite before the film festival.

We were standing in line, undecided what to eat. So when our turn came in line, we did a Canadian thing, and politely let the person behind us go ahead, while we continued to ponder over the menu.

The person behind us thanked us, and practically fell over us, barely able to keep steady on his own two feet.

He was a black man, with scruffy dark hair, in jeans and a red jacket, dancing to some unheard beat in his own head. Though he wasn’t wearing earphones, and by his loud and vulgar language when he placed his order, indicated he wasn’t all there.

He acted like someone who feasted upon a recipe of drugs, booze, and who knows what else. And he continued to make a scene as he paid for his burger and fries entirely out of coins, probably from what he managed to cobble together from begging.

With his tray of greasy fast food, he went over to the condiments section, and took massive amounts of napkins, straws, and other things. Mumbling to himself, while dancing to the songs in his drug induced mind.

He freaked out those around him, and was repeatedly told by the staff to take a seat.

Eventually he did, right next to our table.

We quickly got up and moved to another table.

Usually, dinners out, even at a fast food restaurant, are times for enjoyable chit-chat. My poor girlfriend was so scared, she was wolfing down her burger and fries like it was her last meal.

I kept trying to re-assure her everything would be alright.

Then, the homeless druggy came over to our table, put his hand on my back, and thanked me for letting him ahead of us.

My girlfriend bolted to the door, and I tried to escape too – saying it wasn’t a big deal.

He wouldn’t take his arm off my back, despite me trying to get up. He told me he was homeless, and asked me if I had any change.

I told him I didn’t.

He didn’t believe me, said how hard it was to be on the street.

I took out my wallet, and showed him how empty it was – just the usual plastic.

He started pointing to my change compartment of my wallet, saying how that didn’t look empty. And that’s when I just got up, leaving whatever food I hadn’t eaten, and joined my girlfriend who was now almost on the other block outside.

She was shaking like I’ve never seen before. She grabbed hold of me, and pulled me with her, as her flight of fright took her in an almost run anywhere but near that crazy homeless man.

Eventually I managed to calm her down, and we made our way to the theatre and had a great time, sinking into the world of short films, and the engaging discussions.

But I’ll never forget the horrors of the homeless, especially as they scared the hell out of both of us.

And that wasn’t the end of my week of hell.

The next day, I met with a woman, probably in her twenties or early thirties, about a job. She was seeking employment, and we are looking for account managers to handle our advertising sales clients.

Her resume was interesting and read of someone with experience in the marketing world. Her initial attitude and interest caught my eye during our phone interview, and I thought she could apply her background to our advertising sales team.

However, all that changed when I met Seema Doad in person, and she gave me the third degree, challenging my company’s business model.

Hold on a sec . . . Seema, YOU are the one seeking employment from me, and yet YOU are challenging my company’s vision and direction?

Perhaps she was having a bad day and just unleashed her frustrations on the first person in her path?

Being an open, honest, and good-natured person, I attempted to answer her questions, but Seema Doad wouldn’t accept my answers, continuing to argue with me over my corporate vision, our business strategies and although she hadn’t any knowledge of our business plan, she continued to tell me it couldn’t be done.

I don’t want people to kiss my butt – I hate that – but I do expect anyone we hire to believe in our vision, our direction and to especially be respectful of everyone.

Seema, you don't believe in our vision, nor in our direction – and you certainly were not respectful of anyone in our meeting, arguing with the very person who could have offered you a real job.

And that's the kicker, because we always hear how employers force job candidates to do outrageous things to get a job. All I did, as the potential employer, was try to answer your questions, which you tossed back at me, in an angry hostile and very demeaning manner.

Although Seema, you may be in luck, I did see a “Help Wanted” sign in the window of that McDonald’s where the drunken drugged out homeless dude frequents. Just remember if you go off on one of your rants, to ask: “do you want fries with that?”