System problems, staff problems, mind numbing meetings. So I stop at a restaurant/watering hole after work and here is Eduardo, the dish washer, sitting at the bar with a glass of water. Not even 5' tall, chatting with everybody in his heavy Hispanic accent. He chats me up and I answer with my broken Spanish. He liked that. Turns out he crossed the Mexican border with his family some 35 years ago, saw his dad murdered in the desert by another immigrant, spent a couple of days with the rest of his family in the trunk of a car, and wound up dehydrated in a hospital when the authorities found them. Now he's a 43 year old dish washer, with a wife and 10 year old daughter, and happy as a lark.
So what was so bad about my week anyway?