A scene in a play that I saw last week really bothered me. In the scene, an elderly man was fired from his job in a garment district factory. Protesting his firing, the man told the young owner that he had worked for the owner’s father and uncle for 43 years. As the play moved on, I was distracted by my thoughts of loyalty.
It took a few minutes before I realized why the scene had had such an impact on me.
I remember working in my father’s printing company as a young boy. There was an old gentleman who worked for my father -- doing errands and deliveries. My father explained to me that the old man was a holocaust survivor (as was my father) from the same city as my father. I had the feeling - although I never confirmed it - that the man had known my grandfather before the war. My father explained to me that, as long as the man wanted, he would always find work at the printing. Even after the man died, my father continued his wife and family on the company’s health insurance plan (until the rules changed and the business was audited).
An old lesson in loyalty brushed off by the scene in a play.