Yesterday I lost a good friend.
On the job.
Yes, that’s right: she died at work.
And though she may not have known that she was my friend, she was.
She was a wonderful, sweet lady.
She had lived a long life.
And yet, she was taken from us too soon.
She was loved by many.
I do not know exactly what happened to her.
Only that one minute she had trouble catching her breath (from what I’m told) and the next she was being wheeled out dead…as we continued to work.
More or less.
Me, sweating by the ovens.
Slave to time.
Rush rush rush.
And there, a compatriot is being rolled away on a stretcher.
No white sheet.
Just an obvious lack of consciousness.
Perhaps she has been sedated?
And then the rumors trickled down.
“They couldn’t find a pulse.”
“Now it looks like they DID find a pulse.”
At the hospital…
But I have little doubt that she was already dead when I saw her for the last time.
That dear, sweet, old lady.
When I finally learned of her fate, I broke down.
I couldn’t help it.
Most of the shift I suspected the worst.
It was hard to be chipper.
Hard to interact with holiday customers in a rush.
But the finality of the news was like a left hook.
Cried as I clocked out.
Cried in my car for a good 20 minutes.
Cried on the way home.
Cried as I entered my house.
All in a day’s work.
Which brings us to our film.
The Errand Boy.
One of at least three Jerry Lewis films which outlines the rigors of working.
All these of which share “boy” in the title.
The Bellboy, The Geisha Boy, and The Errand Boy.
Lewis plays another immortal character: Morty S. Tashman.
The S is important, mind you.
Morty starts out doing the kind of work which typified Norman Phiffier’s existence in Who’s Minding the Store?.
Lewis again essentially plays a stooge–a patsy…a retard.
The Errand Boy certainly has its moments, but I wouldn’t call it a masterpiece on the order of The Nutty Professor, Cinderfella, or The Ladies Man.
Nor is it really of that next tier including The Patsy, Who’s Minding the Store?, and The Disorderly Orderly.
Indeed, The Errand Boy is really like a more mature (in terms of artistic development) version of The Bellboy.
It is certainly worth seeing.
And if it isn’t painfully apparent, the substance which greases the wheels of this comedy is work.
Another day, another opportunity.
R.I.P. my friend.
That’s a very sad story, Paul. Sorry to hear.