Andrew the Mooch - Part II

(Continued from Part I)

Even though on the road we saved money by getting a motel room with a kitchenette and cooking our own meals, we weren't fanatical about saving money.  We were young and wanted to have some fun too.  So more often than not we would go to a bar after work and have a beer or two, and maybe shoot a couple games of pool.  Sometimes, we'd splurge for dinner at the bar also.

So it wasn't enough that Andrew mooched from us at the motel; he insisted on coming out with us after work too.  And it's not like we were gonna say, "No, Andrew.  You may not come out with us."  When it's just five of you on the road together, you can't afford to alienate anyone.  Plus, we were Canadians.  You know, like Americans, only nicer.

But we didn't have to like it.

Mitch had said something to him uncharacteristically diplomatic and delicate (two adjectives not generally associated with Mitch).  Something like "You know Andrew, you're kinda short on money.  We're gonna go drink beer and play pool, and it'll be kinda frustrating for you to be there.  There's not gonna be a whole lot for you to do".  But Andrew insisted that he really wanted to come.  If I'm feeling charitable, I can assume it was because he didn't want to be lonely in the motel room all by himself, and wanted the company.  If I'm feeling uncharitable, I conclude that he assumed he wasn't going to have to go without beer or pool anyways.  So we all tried not to be too obvious about rolling our eyes, and off we all went.  Together.

The first time was before we had gotten totally frustrated with him, plus we weren't having dinner out so he probably got a beer or two out of us, and maybe a couple games of pool.  Whatever.  But by our second evening out (and, of course, no sales from him yet, and not much prospect of a paycheck in the future, given his less than stellar people skills), we had just about had it.  But we played it cool, since it wasn't worth creating any bad blood for the sake of saving a few bucks and not getting taken advantage of.

Leave it to Mitch to break the pattern.  We got dinner at the bar that night.  I don't remember what I or anyone else ordered, but Mitch got nachos.  A nice big heaping plate with a couple plastic containers of sour cream and salsa on the side.  Andrew asked if he could have some as he reached across the table to save time.

Mitch said "No".  Never having heard such a strange foreign word before, Andrew gave his standard uncertain smile and asked if Mitch was serious.  Indeed, he was.  "That's right, Andrew.  No, you may not have any of my nachos."  The moment was an awkward one for all of us (except, apparently, Mitch), and we all looked down, around, and nowhere in particular waiting for the moment to pass.  Finally, Mitch lifted the mood for us (except Andrew) by sliding one of the plastic containers over to him and saying, "OK, you can have the sour cream.  I won't be needing it."  (He declined.)  We all laughed, including Andrew, even though he probably knew the joke was on him.

Actually, maybe he didn't.  Back in those days, I had never heard of Asperger's syndrome, but now I wonder if maybe he had it.  As I've indicated, his ability to perform in social situations or relate to people was quite limited.  Also, he apparently thought he could successfully be an encyclopedia salesman.  And I remember a conversation I had with him one time when we met up at the end of a night knocking on doors while we were waiting for Mitch to pick us up to take us back to the motel.

Andrew asked me, "Could you live without music?"

"I dunno," I replied.  "I like music a lot.  What do you mean?"

Andrew went into a long boring monologue about the importance of music in his life.  He could never be a thief, but he had decided that if there were ever no other way, he would have to steal whatever he needed in order to continue listening to his most important music, especially Neil Young.  Et cetera, and so forth.

I was still about eight years away from meeting my wife, who was the first person I ever met who could say "thank you for sharing" without a hint of irony or sarcasm, but I still understood instinctively that Andrew was "sharing" something important to him, no matter how insignificant and boring the topic was to me, so I nodded and feigned interest.

Unsurprisingly, Andrew made no sales on his first road trip.  We all assumed we'd never see him again after we got back to Vancouver.  He'd just slip away like so many other failed travelling door to door encyclopedia salesmen, and be more or less forgotten.  How surprised we all were when he showed up ready for the next trip a couple days later.

Needless to say, the second trip was as successful for him in terms of sales as the first one had been.  But heading out, what we were all worried about was another two weeks of mooching.  Someone had had a private talk with him, however, and this time he brought enough money to pay his own way.

Not that he paid any of us back.