#137. Jean-Pierre (Friday, December 11, 2015)

What was your best day of…befriending someone right when they were about to leave your life forever?

In 2015, my second year at my institution, I saw four of the junior economists (like me) on my floor leave for private sector positions in Toronto. As such, with me still being my socially disengaged self at that point (#27), pretty much all of my outside-of-work social activity that year came at the venue of goodbye parties.

Jean-Pierre’s (#16) departure was the last one of the year. He was one of the brightest economists we had. He’d won an Awards of Excellence (#16)—jointly with another economist who’d already left—for a project he had done in the credit ratings group. And he was the epitome of work-hard, play-hard; and he wore a suit literally every day… except today, his last day, when he was in a shorts and T-shirt.

Some important context for this one. The week before, at the after-party after our department Christmas party¹, right after we’d gotten kicked out of this fancy bar because Jean-Pierre was too drunk, we were saying our goodbyes and I shook Mathieu Remillard’s (the senior economist who interviewed me, #58) quite hard. Mathieu made a joke about how “he knew I was the one to hire because of my handshake”; but Jean-Pierre wasn’t having any of that, and abruptly intervened. Basically saying that’s not what Mathieu meant, then laid into me about this being unacceptable (citing a past instance). Then it quickly got awkward, with everyone there—including Aaron Brookbank (#16, #12, #3)² and Shawn Capella³ (#16) and a few others—got me to “try again” my handshake with them. Taking the point but not wanting to engage with any of this, I hastily tell them I have to go and get in a taxi. I guess I learn my lesson, and I’m more or less neutral on Jean-Pierre—more embarrassed at myself than anything. And almost all of us never bring it up again,

So at Jean-Pierre’s goodbye party today—which is at the always-busy John A MacDonald pub where we have a giant main table in middle booked for a group of over thirty—Jean-Pierre and I have our one-on-one chat early in the evening. He starts off by bringing up by kind-of-apologizing for what he did the week before; telling me didn’t like saying these things behind people’s backs, and that I was a really smart guy but wouldn’t get anywhere if I didn’t know how to interact with people.

I take it for what it is, and that’s that. We then talk about girlfriends: I tell him about things ending with Chenling in May (#129), he tells me he’s really sorry (obviously did not need to be), then told me about things not working out with his girlfriend (who was number three of the four economists who had left).⁴ We commiserate, talk about some personal stuff, where of course I lie to him and tell him my parents are in Toronto—because, a year and a half in, I’m still (1) way too insecure about being back in my small hometown, and (2) not interested in having judgment-laden conversations with co-workers about why I’m living with my parents. He tells me we should go get drinks the next them I’m home in Toronto.

The party itself is pretty awesome. The fish and chips are pristine. And by this point, I’m at least acquaintances with most of the people there, and so I do my usual thing where I go from group to group (#67, #60)—talking at a deeper level about each other’s lives and work, until I lose track of time. There is one notable moment, however, where I’m talking to someone (I forget who) and I said something that implied my parents lived in Ottawa. I was struggling to explain, then Jean-Pierre nearby just casually (in a neutral way) says “because his parents live here” before going back to his conversation.

Notable, because for the remaining two hours at the John A, and the hours after midnight where five or six of us (including Mathieu, Shawn, and a few others) go to another bar, he never brings up the fact that I lied to his face.⁵ Rather, he seems genuinely happy to be interacting with me. And when the time comes to say our drunk goodbyes forever (I only see him one more time after this, at Aaron’s wedding, #16), it does feel heartfelt between me and him. Even though I never really knew him that well when we were working together.

So that’s the story of Jean-Pierre, and the special connection we had on that final night.

Which is where Jean-Pierre first told all of us he was leaving.
Well before he became my close friend, and before he even liked me at all. It was his first year, and to that point he’d only seen nerdy, socially awkward me (like here). It was only during a party four months later—whose other contents make it inadmissible for any public list—where we had a deep conversation that triggered a friendship.
The newest economist, whom I had guided on his interview day one year earlier.
They later reconnect in Toronto. The only time after this I meet them is at Aaron Brookbank’s (#16) wedding together, and I believe they end up getting married.
I suspect he know my parents were here all along—in hindsight, it must have come out in some random conversation in the past 18 months—but he could empathize with my position and so let it be.