I worked on a project for Carson Stoga Communications a few years ago. The company is based in Schamburg, which meant that it took me nearly two hours to get there in the morning. I'd stay late so the evening drive home wasn't as bad. But the situation wasn't ideal, to say the least.

I had been living on the fringes of Chicago for more than a decade after moving out there from Minnesota. I wanted to live in the city, but I didn't want to pay the rents. I spent a few years in an apartment outside Tinley Park, in a neighborhood that I wouldn't exactly describe as friendly. It was during this period that I worked for Carson Stoga. As I said, the commute was terrible.

I remember heading out to work one morning to find Harris, my neighbor across the hall, slumped in front of his door. He looked like he'd been asleep until I'd disturbed him. "Can't find my keys, " he mumbled to explain himself.

"Don't we have a number we can call for that?" I asked.

"A number for what?" he said.

"The people that own this place, " I said. "They have a number so that they can let you in twenty-four hours a day."

"They never gave me a number, " Harris said.

"They own buildings all over the place, " I told him. "They have a big staff. So there has to be a number and people ready to go at all hours."

"And how much do they charge for this service?" Harris asked me.

"I think it comes with your rent, " I said. "I don't know. I've never used it."

"I'll wait until Doug shows up, " Harris said. "He can let me in. I have a spare inside, anyway. So no damage done."

"How long have you been out here?" I asked him.

"I got home around two, " he said. "I was visiting my daughter. I was sitting for her kids."

"I didn't even know you had a daughter, " I said.

"Well, it's probably the last time I'll see her for a while, anyway, " he told me. "We got into it pretty good when she got home."

"Call her tonight, " I said. "Things always blow over."

Harris shook his head. "We see each other maybe once or twice a year, if that, " he told me. "There are issues, you know. She's mad at me for things that happened twenty years ago. I don't understand it."

"It's tough with family, " I said.

"And she blames me for her divorce, I think, " Harris said. "She won't say it. Maybe she doesn't even realize it. But somehow she thinks it's my fault. You know, it's not that I said anything to the man. He was fine enough as far as I was concerned. But it's one of those psychological things. She thinks she can't handle being in a relationship because I wasn't a good father. Or she thinks I wasn't a good father. Probably I wasn't."

"You're thinking about it too hard, " I said.

"I'm thinking about it just right, " Harris said. "You know how it is. You have kids. You mess up sometimes. I guess you don't know how it is, though."

"Well, I have siblings I don't talk to, " I told him. "You know, there are holidays. But that's it."

"Right, right, " Harris said. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It's been a rough night."

"It's no problem, " I said. "I'd still suggest a phone call."

"Maybe, maybe, " Harris mumbled again. He fell back asleep as I went down the hall to the stairs.

Noble was already waiting at my desk when I got to work. "You're late, " he said as I dropped my briefcase on the floor. Noble loomed over the scene, as big as a linebacker.

"I'm here the same I'm always here, " I told him.

"You should get here earlier, then, " he said.

"I get up early enough, " I told him. "You have no idea what I have to go through to get here."

"I salute your loyalty to the firm, " Noble said.

"Ross isn't even here yet, anyway, " I said.

"Ross isn't the man I'm looking for, " Noble told me.

"What's the problem?" I asked him.

"I get a call yesterday right before I'm about to leave, " Noble told me. "The whole office is empty. This is maybe at ten."

"I was here until nearly ten, " I told him.

"But you weren't here exactly at ten, were you?" Noble said. "This call came in at ten on the dot. It was the people from Polymer."

"They're coming here on Friday, " I told him. "What's so urgent that they call now?"

"This is the crazy part, " he told me. "You know, they were looking through some of their old materials. I mean stuff that we worked on for them maybe two years ago. I don't even know if they use it anymore. Probably not. At any rate, they tell me that there's a problem with one of the brochures we made. They're quite upset."

"About something they don't even use anymore?" I said.

"They might still use it, " Noble told me. "I can't remember the name of the product. But anyway, the thing is that there's a picture inside the thing. You know, we took some shots of them over there to put here and there. The usual stuff. But the person who's calling me is upset because apparently the cover shot includes some fellow who was killed in a car accident. You know, he was killed sometime in between when we took the picture and when the brochures were printed."

"And they didn't notice this earlier?" I said.

"I asked them the same question, " Noble said. "The person tried to make some excuse about how distraught they were about the accident, or something like that. It was nonsense, of course. The truth of it is that they never used the materials. I mean, am I right? How could you not notice a thing like that? It's just that now someone's gone and opened up a box and they finally took a look at these things. And they're mad at us."

"Nobody has to use the materials we give them, " I said.

"That doesn't mean that they have the right to tell us off two years after the face, " Noble said.

"Well, we have to be careful in these situations, " I said.

"You didn't have to take the call, " Noble said, getting angry. "It was insanity. Here I am wanting to get home and get a shower and get to sleep, and I have to deal with this lunatic who is going on and on about some work we did way back when that has nothing to do with anything. And what do I say? I apologize, of course, but this person won't have any of it. They tell me that they're seriously considering dropping us as a client."

"I hope you talked them out of that, " I said.

"Of course I did, " Noble said. "But the effort involved was monumental. I even offered a reprint of the older materials. You know, it was madness. I'm saying, 'Okay, we'll reprint stuff that you never even looked at in the first place and isn't relevant anymore.' Well, of course, I didn't say that, but I might as well have."

"How did they respond?" I said.

"I just had to wait them out, " Noble said. "You know, this person went on and on about how great this guy was. The one who was killed. So I sit there and I listen to him go on and tell stories, and I know that I just have to let him spill it all out. And as long as I hang on, we'll still have the client. So that's what I did. He calmed down after maybe an hour of this. And I apologized again and again. And that was it."

"So you're certain that we still have them?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, " Noble said. "He told me he'd see us on Friday. So it's fine."

I imagined the whole scenario in my mind. Noble in a darkened office, his feet on his desk, a sarcastic look on his face. This person on the other end of the phone, screaming into the receiver. And Harris, my neighbor, probably arguing with his daughter at around the same time. It was a messy night. At least I didn't have their problems.