Tambor Adams was a natural-born complainer. His chief complaint being that he always wished he were someplace else than where he was now.
Time and again, family, friends and co-workers heard him say, “I wish I wasn’t here.”
It didn’t matter if he were in a fancy restaurant, his corner office at work, church, his daughter’s baseball game or his favorite recliner, Tambor would complain. One afternoon as he sat on a park bench eating his brown-bag lunch, Tambor sighed, “I wish I wasn’t here.”
A homeless woman sitting at the other end of the bench, feeding the pigeons, overheard him and replied, “You keep wishing that and you’ll make it come true.”
Tambor looked at her with disdain, thinking, “What does she know about anything, anyway?”
Finishing his lunch, started back to the office, the echo of the woman’s words bouncing around his head. He nodded at his secretary as he entered his office and she politely smiled back in acknowledgment.
Seated in his leather office chair, Tambor picked up a pile of papers and stated aloud, “I wish I wasn’t here.”
It was early evening when everyone but Tambor’s secretary had left for the day, that she decided to tell him she was leaving for the night. Much too her surprise though, he wasn’t in his office.
“I don’t know,” she answered the detective as he asked about how he could have left without her seeing him.
The corner office, filled with two detectives, an uniformed police officer, the office manager and the secretary, grew immediately quiet when there came from the leather chair behind the desk, a faint voice asking, “Hello – anybody there?”
Tambor Adams had finally wished himself away.