I was walking down Fulton Street with my head down and checking my phone when a black man shouted at me, “Hey Chief, how’s it going?” I looked up. The man who stood in front of me was not familiar. “It’s Bobby, I used to work security at your building,” he says, “You don’t remember me?” Alas, I didn’t. My initial reaction was that this had to be part of some elaborate hoax to scam me out of a few bucks, but it turns out that Bobby had worked security at the front desk for Barclays at 745 7th Avenue. Last November, when the firm did a round of restructuring, he and many others were laid off. Then, in December, his schizophrenic mother committed suicide by slitting her throat right in front of his eyes. Bobby had a mental breakdown and was committed to Bellevue. He refused to eat for a while and had to get fed intravenously. He was just released last Friday and was living in the streets, digging through the trash to survive. His clothes were worn and his cheekbones were sunken. This was a man who had hit rock bottom, and I could tell he was hurting inside. But Bobby was cheerful. “Guess what?” he says, “The city is putting me in a DHS Shelter in July. But I have to live on the streets until then. I ain’t giving up though. I know my mother and the Lord would tell me to stay strong and keep on living.” I was shocked and amazed. I still couldn’t believe he had recognized me. “Yeah,” he said, “I remember like 3 or 4 years ago, back when you were an intern.” (I had indeed done my summer program in 2012.) “Man, I loved that place,” he continued. “A lot of people wake up in the morning and hate going to work, but not me. I’m like, ‘I’m going work man!’ Cuz you know what, we were like family there. Oh, and all the pretty girls…” We shared a hearty laugh. “Especially in the summer man, when the skirts come out, mm hmm, and the interns!” Bobby was wide-eyed and animated. I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “How’s everything at Barclays now?” Bobby asked. “Well, I’m no longer there,” I said. “I left last October.” “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Well look at you, moving on to bigger and better things.” He zipped up his hoodie a little and shook his head in mock jest. “So where are you now?” I shuffled a bit, somewhat embarrassed, “I’m at Carlyle now…” I started. “Daaaaaaamn, look at you. My man, at the Carlyle Group.” He zipped up his hoodie all the way and did another head shake as I laughed sheepishly. Despite all his troubles, Bobby seemed genuinely happy for me and in fact (and here’s where I was too embarrassed to admit) happier for me than I have been in myself for some time. “But listen man,” he said, his tone getting serious, “I know I’m embarrassing myself but I need to ask you something.” “Shoot,” I replied. “So a friend of mine offered me an uniform [security] position, but in order to work, I need a place of residence. My friend hooked me up with an inn around here, but guess how much they are charging me for the week? Guess how much my life is worth?” I shook my head. “$52.50,” he sighed in disbelief. “Could I please ask you to help out?” At this point, I could have given Bobby my wallet. I took out a hundred dollars without hesitation and gave it too him. His eyes were filled with joy as he embraced me. “Thanks man, you don’t know how much this means to me!” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “I hope this helps you get back on your feet. I don’t know if I’m ever going to see you again Bobby, but good luck my friend.” We embraced again. I had never felt so close to a stranger before in my life. “Don’t say that,” he said. “It was meant to be, and we will see each other again.” As we parted ways, I turned and looked back at Bobby. He was walking with a spring in his step and (as I’d like to think) a new found sense of hope. I couldn’t help but smile as his last words hung in the air. For what it’s worth, I really hope we do see each other again one day.