This was a little bit random. Or was it? I noticed that a dance company in Manhattan has the same name as a bar near me, which I used to go to. For a laugh I mentioned it in a Facebook message to the woman I’m sorta-kinda seeing these days. We met at this bar. It turns out she was familiar with the dance company. That’s not what’s random. I sent her a link to the dance company’s website, where I noticed someone who had the same last name as a woman I worked for back in 1992 and 1993. Hers was a very distinctive name, to say the least. But this person also used another last name, which at first glance looked to me like the last name of my ex-boss’ husband. Yes, it’s true, this dancer/choreographer is the son of the woman I worked for 24 years ago. Not the most random connection but pretty interesting to have made it via the dance company with the same name as a bar I know. Last time I saw that person he was a little kid running around his mother’s office. It’s not as effective telling this story without naming names but, well, I don’t need to bring attention to anybody on account of not really even knowing them. I also don’t have a particularly nostalgic memory of working for that woman, though she was nice enough outside of the office. That would be the first job from which I ever got fired, but even when that happened I knew I deserved it. It was just a shitty job. That boss, however, was responsible for one of the oddest moments of schadenfreude gone wrong I think I ever experienced. Soon after she fired me I got a job as a temp at a cosmetics company. After that I landed something at Time-Warner, where I did Internet stuff for about 7 years. A few years into my time there I was made boss of someone. We were talking about our work histories and such, smalltalk, when I mentioned I had worked for this woman. At the sound of her name his face lit up. He knew her well, he said. My first thought was that this would be some kind of sweet revenge, her knowing that the guy she fired was now the boss of someone she knew. I didn’t get that satisfaction. Before I could say anything this person said “I was there, holding her hand, when she died.” He was still positively beaming in a way I found curiously morbid. But aside from his demeanor I became instantly conflicted about how to feel about any of this. My instinct for revenge felt filthy, or was it just a sour feeling to have such a vile emotion frustrated? I don’t remember saying much else about her to this person, but I wanted to explain what had just happened in my mind. I never did.