About 10 years ago I moved to New York City. I have been a traveling business man my whole life, but I had always wanted to live in the city. Something about the tall buildings and bright lights has always intrigued me. I went to college at Cornell, got my doctoral degree in business management, minored in finances, and went on living my life sitting at a desk all day in a variety of offices. I’ve been all over the country working for high end tax management companies, corporate banks, various healthcare services, financial aid companies, and once worked in a doughnut factory for three months while I was living in Wyoming. I never settled down, but always dreamed of living in the big city with a huge penthouse with a family to call my own and neighbors who actually know my name. And there I was, in New York City, where I always wanted to be. Was it actually as great as I made it out to be?

I entered my penthouse one evening looking at everything in it with glory. The grand piano and the red carpeted cascading staircase and the huge stoned fireplace from ceiling to floor, all of which were paid for by money inherited from family, years of typing out other people's problems, and hundreds of stock investments that recently went through the roof. My recently employed cook was already almost finished with my supper of seared lamb with a side of risotto mixed with tabouli. My butler and secretary who both have been with me for years were both out shopping for a new chandelier for the dining room. I decided to call my mum and tell her how well I was making out. She would be so proud of me back home in Georgia. I had everything I had ever dreamed of. My life seemed perfect.

One morning I was on my way to an important business meeting with one of the heads of Northwell Health. There were so many homeless people begging on the side of the road and in subways between my home and the office. One of them particularly stood out to me. It was an old man probable in his late 50s. He had three trash bags and a shopping cart filled with god knows what. His pants were covered in dirt and something wet. His shirt had so many holes it was barely a shirt at all. People kept tripping over his stuff as they walked by. This really annoyed me because if he actually gave life a shot he would have been able to get a job and pay for a home. Why beg for money when you could easily go make some? People like him don’t understand how easy their life would be if they just tried. As I walked by, some teenage boy came up and grabbed the homeless man’s cup of change and ran off. The homeless man then got up and went after him.

“That’s my money! You bring it back here right now! Oh I am going to kill you when I catch you! Get back here! Give me back my money!” He screamed.

I then stepped in and grabbed him to hold him back. After all the money wasn’t his in the first place so the kid had every right to take it. Maybe it would teach him a lesson so he would learn to actually go out and make money.

“Ok Ok. Settle down. Let the kid go. Get back to your stack of trash. Find a new cup for your change and maybe ACTUALLY GET A JOB!” I spat at him.

“Ya sure get a job. You are one to talk Mr. I have all the money in the world and my mommy would help me out whenever I needed it.”

“Never bring my mother into this and you don’t know a thing about me life.”

“Really, I don’t”

“No, not a clue.”

“So you are telling me you don’t live in one of those fancy apartments with servants and fancy food and grand staircases and all the money you will ever need.”

I didn’t respond.

“Exactly.”

“Whatever, I have a meeting to get to because unlike you I actually have a job.” There I left it and I walked to my meeting. I passed by this man every day for three weeks and we never said a word to each other again until one day. This day I was angry at him still and couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“How’s the job hunt going?” I chuckled at him.

“How’s the wife hunt going?” he snarled back. Wife hunt? I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend. I mean I’d like one, but that would come with time. He had no idea.

“Why did you choose to live like this?”

“Why? You are asking me why I CHOSE to live like this. You think I chose to live on the street with no food, no money, no nothing. Why did you choose to live like a rich snob?”

“I did not choose to become who I am. I worked for it and made it happen.

“Sure, and your upbringing and family had nothing to do with it.”

I didn’t answer.

“Exactly. Now let me ask you this.”

“What now?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Just why. Why do you live the way you do? Why do I live the way I do? Why is society set up this way? Why is the sky blue. Why are your pants gray? Just Why.”

“Ok, ya ok. I’ll give you answer. Will you be here tomorrow. Well of course you will. I’ll tell you then.”

The truth is I did not have an answer by tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. I couldn’t understand why this question of “why” was so tough. It should not be this hard to figure out. I mean an uneducated homeless man asked it. I took a different route to work every day to avoid the homeless man until I had  my answer. I asked my secretary why I lived the way I do.

“Why, you worked for it ser. You deserve it.”

I went on to ask a fellow colleague what he thought.

“There are people brought to this Earth for good who have an important role to play in life like you and I. Then there are the people who shouldn’t be on this Earth who serve no purpose like that homeless man.” I thought I agreed with him, but there was something inside of me who thought there was something else to it.

Finally, while eating breakfast at a coffee shop I decided to ask the nice lady behind the counter.

“Why do homeless people live on the streets while I live in huge apartments? Why do they eat stale bread while I eat the tenderest meats? Why is life and society set up like this? Why?”

“Well, maybe it’s God’s will or maybe it’s how we were brought up or maybe it’s how we live life. I do not know, but I do know that this is how society is, and it probably will never change. You are You. I am me. The homeless are the homeless. Maybe they tried to get a job. Maybe they had a terrible home life growing up. Maybe they made some wrong choices or mistakes, but then again so has everyone else.”

Never in my life have someone’s words stuck with me like these did. I do not know what it was about what she said, but thinking about her answer made me contemplate my answer. I now knew what the homeless man was saying. I knew the answer to “why”. I rushed over to the spot where the homeless man was after work.

“I got it. I figured it out. I know why” I shouted as I turned the corner, but when I got there he was gone.

“No, How could he be gone?”

“He left a few weeks ago. Something about finding a job so he can fill a cup with earned money. I don’t know. I can’t quite remember what he said” someone said from behind me.

“To find a job?”

“Ya. He kept talking about some rich guy with a terrible attitude.”

“That’s me! I’m that rich man.”

“Oh.”

I couldn’t believe it. The homeless man was actually gone and I didn’t even ever get his name. I figured it out though. I knew the answer, and he was gone just like that. I couldn’t help but laugh. He actually went out to get a job. I then sat down, right in the very spot he sat. I sat there and watched people go by. I watched the looks I got. I watched the occasional person hand me change though I didn’t need it I put it in a cup anyway. There I was on the streets with a cup of change. Later that night I handed some kid the cup of change and went home. I couldn’t sleep that night or the nights that followed. I had to do something to honor the man that I knew changed my view on life and people, but I didn’t know what.

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10 years later

I was out to dinner with my family. I had my wife, my twin sons, my daughter, my cook, my butler, and my secretary. Though the last three were not actually family they felt like it, and I certainly treated them like it now. Our waiter then came over and asked us what we were having and I knew something was familiar about him.

“What can I get for y-- Is that you rich snobby man?” He chuckled.

“That’s me. I see you got yourself a job” I kidded back.

“I see you got yourself a wife.”

“I did and a family.” I smiled thinking about all of them there with me.

“You still live in that fancy apartment?”

“No. I turned that into a homeless/unemployed shelter and help service center. Now, I live just outside the city. You still live in the city?”

“Yes, just in an actual apartment a few blocks down from my old corner. Thanks for the plague by the way.” The plague he was referring to was the one I put up on his corner that read “Here marks where I was asked ‘why’. The answer is simpler than you think”.

“Did you ever figure out the answer?”

“Yes, the answer is that there isn’t one. Society is how it is, and no one planned for it to be that way it just is.”

“Good. I am glad you figured it out. Anyway, Can I start you off with something to drink?”