At the turn of the century, I shared a tiny office with the world’s most uncomfortable Jew. We worked together as software engineers, building trading systems at a gigantic investment bank that is now extinct. So it goes.
During the long stretches of time we spent locked together in that cubicled, carpeted mine, I occasionally marveled at how neat and perfect my officemate’s appearance was. He was almost a racist caricature of a Jew and looked like he could’ve been created by Nazis in Photoshop. Mel Gibson himself wouldn’t have cast this man for fear of a PR nightmare. His nose alone could have leapt off the pages of Eichmann’s Racial Science charts.
His name was Mark Waldbaum, and he was a small man, hairy, with short stumpy fingers. He was whiny, nasal and obviously gay.
But why was he so uncomfortable?