The Last 'Hola'

I won’t be sorry to leave behind the fright night elevators and the arctic air conditioning, but I’ll sure miss Marisol.

My company closed down its Wall Street office on Friday after more than 20 years on the 15th floor; and we’re taking our act one train stop and a world away to Brookfield Place, a.k.a. the World Financial Center, right across the street from the World Trade Center.

Moving crews were pulling TV’s off the walls on Friday afternoon as we emptied the contents of our desks into boxes. Even the company logo over the reception desk was removed and packed away. It was kind of eerie.

I have a divided history with the place, having worked there for two years from 2006 to 2008, and then returning last March for my latest gig with the company.

I’m also divided emotionally. I’ve already mentioned my rather terrifying history with the building’s elevators, but we also had a psychotic air conditioning system that blew freezing cold air through the newsroom even in the depths of winter.

It would get so cold that I took to wearing an old sweatshirt around the office with the hood pulled up to protect my gorgeous head.

“Are you the Grim Reaper?” a co-worker asked one particularly frigid morning.

“No,” I said, “but stick around. He’s bound to make an appearance.”

I started my first day in this building last year in a blizzard. I was fortunate enough to get into the city without any hassle, but nearly all of the top staff, including my boss, couldn’t get in and had to work remotely.

And that was the morning I met Marisol, a lovely young woman who works for building security.

She was short-handed on that first wintry morning and forced to command the front desk on her own. And yet she was so polite and helpful when I arrived, explaining to me that there was no one in my office yet.

And we just hit it off. She took to calling me the more formal-sounding “Robert,” probably getting that from my driver’s license, and even though I prefer “Rob”, I never bothered to correct her.

Move On Up

I always greeted her with a hearty “Hola, como estas?”—the only Spanish I know—and chat with her before getting boarding one of those awful elevators.

Some days when I was feeling really down, I’d go out of my way to walk over to the Pine Street entrance where Marisol was working, just to see a friendly face.

“I always remembered your name because you started during the snowstorm,” she told me.

There were other pluses about the old neighborhood.

I loved the relatively short commute and the nice little world we had around us, with Wall Street right outside the front door, the ferry docks a few blocks away, and Trinity Church across Broadway and my beloved Our Lady of Victory Church just down the street.

During the summer, I enjoyed watching the squads of tourists march through the area and in the winter, I loved the massive Christmas tree that stood outside the stock market and the Salvation Army guy who danced his keister off to get people to fill his kettle.

Now I’ve got a new address.

I took a walk around Brookfield Place on Friday afternoon and I have to say it is a beautiful place with stores, a dining area, and the wonderous Winter Garden Atrium, which hosts concerts and other events.

And there’s the North Cove Marina and an ice-skating rink right outside.

The complex overlooks the Hudson River and the area is a bit nippy right now, but it is stunning in the spring and summer. I suspect I’ll be eating lunch outdoors a lot as the weather gets warmer.

As I was leaving the Wall Street office, I made sure to exit by the Pine Street door, so I could say goodbye to Marisol and thank her for all her kindness and help during the last year. I’m going to miss her and I wish nothing her but the best.

Tomorrow morning, I report to the new digs on Liberty Street. I feel a little nervous, but that will pass as soon as I get set up at my new desk.

And then it’s back to work.