Rich Man Meets Poor Cleaner Who Has the Same Birthmark as His — Story of the Day
George was working in his office late one night when the janitor, Simon, came to clean his office. When Simon dropped something, George treated him terribly until he noticed the birthmark on the man’s hand. It mirrored his own. Simon ran away in tears, but George found him, and they went in search of the unexpected truth.
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought everyone had left the office already,” the janitor said as he entered George’s office. George Livingston looked up from the document he was reading and took his glasses off.
“Who are you?” he asked the man in uniform wheeling a mop bucket into his office.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I’m Simon, sir. I’m the night janitor here,” the man explained, pointing at his mop. “Would you like me to return later?”
“No, no. Go ahead and clean,” George replied, waving his hands and focusing back on the paper in his hand.
He didn’t mean to stay at the office so long, but it happened unexpectedly. He was the Chief Technology Officer at an important bank in the country, and his work took up most of his life. Most people thought he earned that job title through connections, as his family had always been wealthy, but George worked hard through Harvard and rose from the ground up at the Boston headquarters of the bank.
Unfortunately, his father died five years ago and never saw him earning the title. His mother followed suit two years later, and it was heartbreaking. Since then, he hadn’t noticed anything beyond his work and getting better. It was a lonely existence, but he would be able to retire earlier than most people.
Suddenly, a loud crash resounded through the room, pulling George away from his thoughts. “What happened?” he bellowed at the janitor, who knelt on the ground and started picking pieces of glass.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve dropped this trophy. I’ll pick it up right away,” Simon apologized, not looking up from the broken glass.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“NO! My lacrosse trophy! You idiot! IS IT THAT HARD TO CLEAN WITHOUT DESTROYING MY STUFF?” George screamed, rushing towards the janitor and seeing his beloved trophy in pieces. Although he had not played lacrosse since Harvard, that prize bore one of his fondest memories.
His parents had watched his team win the championship, and George was awarded MVP that year. Despite all his successes, that moment was the first time his father told him...