Theoffice reunion was an expensive affair.

It was held at a posh town club and there were about 25 of us. We had drinks - beer, wine, liquor, orange juice, coke... at club prices - before we sat down to lunch, ordering from a menu that did not have any prices listed.

The bill would have easily exceeded a thousand dollars, considering that most of us had either soup or salad plus a steak, and even though few opted for desserts.

The bill could well have approached two thousand. I had never been to this club before and so had no idea of their prices. I did not get the chance to find out, as my ex-boss picked up the tab.

Never before in my life, except on my wedding day, had I treated friends to such a costly meal. Still, my wedding dinner had cost much less per person. The idea of spending a thousand or two to treat friends and ex-colleagues to lunch was just beyond me. I had never been able to afford such generosity.

The reunion lunch was called in honour of another ex-boss. This first boss, who was in town for a visit, had retired to his ranch in Scotland where he keeps a number of race horses.

Big boss

Also present was the ex-big boss, former head of the entire organisation. He, too, was comfortably retired. The rest included ex-colleagues now holding senior positions in the office that I had left 12 years ago, and others who had left to become directors, vice-presidents and division heads of various large corporations.

Another two were, like me, “president and chief executive officer” of their own small businesses. But their businesses, unlike mine, were thriving and doing okay. My business was on the verge of collapse. I was broke. I was facing huge debts and stressed from being constantly hounded by creditors.

It’s a lousy, lonely feeling to be broke and surrounded by friends who are all successful in their careers and financially comfortable, a feeling of failure amidst success.

The feeling is made lousier by the fact that nobody knew the situation I was in and it was not an appropriate occasion to talk about it. Everyone seemed just happy to meet people whom they had not met in years. Everyone seemed satisfied with superficial hee hee, hah hah type of talk, about old times, about how the first boss looks good - that is, slimmer - now, to which he replied, “I must have looked bloody awful then!”.

The amusement of the day was flashing out palm pilots to zap personal data across from one to another. I did not have any palm pilot to zap, not that it mattered.

Small talk

Much that I tried to join the small talk, I found it difficult. I found myself keeping silent most of the time, absorbed in my own worries and absorbed in wondering what worries and problems these other people might have beneath their surface cheer.

Much that I tried to blend into the crowd, I ended up seated at one end of a long table that was not fully occupied. There was conversation to be made only to my left, no one to my right nor across from me.

My ex-boss was a perceptive host. He sensed my quietness and came by to chat. I told him about my situation, but mainly the good parts, making only passing reference to the difficulties I was facing.

Finally, the lunch ended. As we were making our way out, my ex-big boss came up to me and said, “Hey, thanks for helping my sister.”

Huh? I did not know what he was talking about, until he continued: “She is much better now, a lot more positive about life. Her tumour is gone. Now her doctors are saying maybe they diagnosed wrongly in the first place. But she was sure it was there before.”

Okay, now I remember. His sister was diagnosed with breast cancer and had come to see me for a macrobiotic consultation, during which I gave her dietary advice and prescribed a few home remedies - natural “medicines” made with vegetables, soy sayce and other food ingredients. It must have been at least three years ago. I had totally forgotten about it.

Successful

I had helped his sister recover from cancer. I had done it without any medical training, without resorting to sophisticated medical technology or powerful drugs with harmful side effects. I did it with brown rice, vegetables, seaweed and miso soup.

What an achievement! I had achieved a type of success that none of my “successful” friends and ex-colleagues could have even come close to achieving.

It was an ego-boosting thought, much needed for my self-esteem. This was reinforced by the fact that my ex-boss’ sister was not the only one. I have helped others recover from cancer and various other illnesses - not all that many because not many followed my recommendations. But there are a few walking, living examples of my success.

I don’t normally think about these people partly because I don’t keep in touch with them. But mainly, it’s because we usually think of success only in terms of monetary success.

Also, I am like most humans who have a tendency to focus on their failures rather than their successes. (I know a few exceptions - people who cannot stop bragging about their achievements. That’s another story.)

The thought of my remarkable achievements, however, was not entirely comforting.

Being in a depressed mood, I soon moved on to the next depressing thought: Why is it that I can achieve great things, like helping a person recover from cancer, and yet I cannot achieve simple things like earning a living.