man

The World Of One

BenjaminLeave a comment

A Story By Benjamin Groff© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures

Tom Richardson awoke one ordinary morning with an extraordinary conviction: he was the sole individual of significance. He did not consider himself to be isolated—others still surrounded him. However, in his perception, they were merely silhouettes, existing solely to fulfill his desires, frustrations, and caprices. The needs, emotions, and experiences of all others were simply ambient noise, inconsequential to the grand narrative of his existence. In this self-centered realm, Tom stood as the sole inhabitant, a solitary monarch in a realm of his own creation.

Tom was entitled, cutting to the front of lines, talking over people in meetings, and driving through red lights without hesitation. He believed the world should move at his pace, bulldozing through daily interactions with unchecked arrogance.

At work, Tom’s behavior was incredibly disruptive. His coworkers noticed how he monopolized conversations during meetings, often interrupting others and steering the discussions towards his own agenda. He frequently dismissed ideas he did not like, making it challenging for his colleagues to express their opinions freely. Additionally, Tom had a habit of taking credit for work he had not done, which created a toxic environment of mistrust and resentment among the team. His colleague Melissa, in particular, had spent months pouring her energy and creativity into a project, only to watch Tom take the spotlight during the presentation without acknowledging her contributions. Her face burned with frustration and disappointment, but Tom was already basking in the praise, completely unaware—or uncaring—of the hurt he had caused. As a result of his actions, the morale of the team suffered, productivity decreased, and valuable talent began seeking opportunities elsewhere. The tangible consequences of Tom’s behavior were felt deeply by those around him, and the weight of his actions continued to impact the work environment.

  • Outside the office, Tom’s interactions were just as callous. In a crowded coffee shop, he snapped at the barista for taking too long with his order. When the woman in front of him politely asked if she could move ahead to grab her drink, Tom scoffed and said, “Wait your turn, like the rest of us.” It never occurred to him that her child was crying in the car outside or that her day might unravel.

In relationships, Tom’s selfishness is all-consuming. His girlfriend, Kate, was initially patient, excusing his behavior as stress. However, as time passed, she realized that Tom’s wants and needs dictated every conversation, every plan, and every moment they shared.

“Can we ever do something I want?”

she asked one evening. Tom shrugged, dismissing her words as if they were background noise.

“It is not that important,”

he replied, flipping through the TV channels as she sat beside him, feeling smaller every second.

The world began to push back.

  • At work, Melissa and other colleagues stopped inviting Tom to meetings. His input was more a hindrance than a help. Projects moved more smoothly without his constant interruptions. The team thrived in his absence, but Tom remained blissfully unaware, believing that his exclusion was a sign of jealousy or resentment, never his behavior.
  • On the streets, strangers grew cold. People who once offered pleasantries started to avoid him. The barista, usually polite despite his rudeness, began greeting him with silent, stony indifference. Tom, of course, assumed they were having bad days.
  • “Not my problem,” ––– he muttered each time.

At home, Kate left. Her final words echoed through their now-empty apartment:

“You do not see me, Tom. Tom, never will you see me!.”

Tom stood in the doorway, confused and angry, unable to comprehend why she was so upset. As far as he was concerned, everything had been fine—because everything had always been about him.

However, despite the growing distance between him and the world, Tom did not connect the dots. The problem, as far as he was concerned, was not him. It was everyone else. Why didn’t people understand that he was in charge of his life? Why didn’t they see that his needs were urgent, his time valuable, his presence essential? His self-centeredness was creating a chasm between him and the rest of the world, a gap that was widening with each passing day.

The final straw came one quiet evening. Tom sat in a restaurant, dining alone —–– a common occurrence now. He waved the waiter over impatiently, complaining about the wait for his meal. The waiter, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and tired eyes, looked at Tom and sighed.

“You are not the only person in the world, you know,” the waiter said softly, his voice edged with exhaustion. “You act like we are all here just for you, but we are not.”

Tom bristled at the remark, ready to retort with something biting to remind the man of his place. However, the waiter’s words hung in the air momentarily, their truth unsettled. The weight of his words, heavy with truth, began to sink in, stirring something deep within Tom.

For the first time in a long time, Tom looked around. The restaurant was filled with people—couples sharing meals, families laughing, servers rushing between tables. Each of them had their own stories, struggles, and lives. They were not shadows. They were not here for him. They were living their own lives, just as vivid and real as his.

The weight of it settled on Tom like a cold wave. For years, he had moved through the world as if it were his stage, oblivious to the people around him. He had interrupted their lives, stepped over their feelings, and demanded their attention without a second thought. He had bulldozed his way through, never considering the damage he left behind.

And then, in a moment that would change his life, he saw it. For the first time, Tom indeed saw the world around him, not as a stage for his performance, but as a rich tapestry of lives, each as important as his own.

Tom left the restaurant without finishing his meal, the waiter’s words echoing in his mind. As he walked down the street, past people he had never noticed, a strange feeling stirred in him—something akin to humility, though he would not have called it that. It was a shift in his attitude and his perception of the world.

The world did not revolve around him—it never had. Perhaps, for the first time in his life, Tom realized just how much he had lost because of it.

As just as he did, not expecting for it to happen, Jesus Christ popped in and said he is going to vote for Kamala Harris!

The End

The Man Who Worked Everywhere

BenjaminLeave a comment

A Story By: Benjamin Groff© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures

Leroy Jones lived a simple life three towns away from the bustling city where he believed he worked. Each morning, he would wake up at precisely 6:00 a.m., put on his neatly pressed work clothes, and head out the door with his lunchbox. The route was always the same—past the old gas station, through the sleepy neighborhoods, and over the rickety bridge that creaked with every car that crossed it. Leroy never noticed the subtle changes in his surroundings as he arrived at his “workplace” each day.

But Leroy’s workplace wasn’t just one place. Each day, he entered a different building, convinced it was the office where he had been employed for the last 25 years. On Monday, he might stroll into a bakery, slipping on an apron as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He would knead dough, chat with customers, and even operate the register when needed. The bakery staff never questioned his presence; he was just another part of their daily routine, his dedication to the ‘job’ unwavering.

On Tuesday, Leroy would find himself in a mechanic’s garage, wiping grease from his hands and sliding under cars to fix mysterious engine problems. He’d swap stories with the other mechanics, his laughter echoing through the shop as if he had been working there for years.

Wednesday brought Leroy to an office building downtown. He would sit at a desk, typing furiously at a computer, answering phones, and filing paperwork. The office workers treated him like any other coworker, nodding in acknowledgment as they passed by his desk.

Thursday saw him behind the counter of a small bookstore, recommending novels and arranging displays with a meticulous eye. Customers appreciated his suggestions, never questioning why a man in his mid-fifties seemed to know every book in the store by heart.

By Friday, Leroy had somehow found his way into a local diner, flipping burgers and pouring coffee for the regulars who called him “Jonesy” with fond familiarity. The servers giggled at his jokes, and the manager would give him a friendly pat, grateful for his hard work.

The strangest part was that no one noticed anything odd about Leroy’s ever-changing jobs. It was as if he belonged everywhere he went, seamlessly fitting into each new role without question. And Leroy himself was blissfully unaware of the peculiar situation. He was content, believing he was fulfilling his duties as an employee, no matter where he happened to be.

The only thing that remained constant was the distance Leroy traveled each day. Three towns away, in his cozy tiny home, his family never suspected a thing. They would ask about his day, and Leroy would share stories that seemed to fit together perfectly, a jigsaw puzzle of experiences from countless workplaces. His wife would smile and nod, proud of her hardworking husband, who, in her mind, had always been reliable and steadfast.

But as the weeks turned into months, a subtle shift began. The people in the various businesses Leroy frequented started to notice something odd. The baker couldn’t recall hiring him, the mechanic couldn’t remember his first day, and the office workers had no recollection of his name on the payroll. Yet, none of them could bring themselves to confront him. After all, Leroy was a good worker and brought a certain charm to their lives that they didn’t want to lose.

One crisp autumn morning, as Leroy entered a flower shop he had never seen before, something unusual happened. The shopkeeper, a kind older woman with silver hair, watched him arrange a bouquet with practiced hands. She approached him with a gentle touch, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Leroy, do you know where you are?” she asked softly.

Leroy paused, looking around the shop as if seeing it for the first time.

“Why, I’m at work, of course,” he replied warmly.

The shopkeeper nodded, her eyes filled with understanding and sadness.

“Yes, Leroy. You are. But perhaps it’s time to go home now.”

Leroy looked at her, confusion flickering across his face. “Home?”

She guided him to the door, her voice calm and soothing.

“Yes, home. Where you’ve always belonged.”

As Leroy stepped outside, the fog that had clouded his mind for so long began to lift. He looked around at the unfamiliar street, realizing for the first time just how far he had wandered. He turned back to the shopkeeper, who gave him a gentle smile and a wave.

Leroy walked slowly back to his car, the pieces of his life starting to come together in a way that made sense for the first time in years. He drove back the three towns to his quiet, tiny home, where his family waited for him, unaware of the strange journey he had been on. As he stepped through the door that evening, a profound sense of peace washed over him. He was truly home, and he knew he would never leave again.

The businesses he had worked at never saw him return, but they never forgot the man who had, for a brief time, been a part of their lives.

And Leroy? He never spoke of those days again, content to leave the mystery behind, embracing the life he had always known, finally at peace with the place he truly belonged.