I met Bill in 2007 at work. I was a contractor, and he was a supervisor on the government side in our building. In passport terms, it was the blitz of 2007 when there was a massive surge of applications and not the staff to process. Passport services made the nightly news more than once, and not for good reasons. I had a job in Customer Service and didn't know much. He was one of the original employees that started the office and knew everything. But what I remember most from that hectic summer was that he was kind, patient, always provided me with an answer to a question and quickly became one of my favorite folks that I sought out when I needed help. In October, when I applied to the Career Entry Program, he interviewed me for the government position.
As the years went on, he became my supervisor, a mentor, and then a real colleague. We never socialized outside of work, but I like to think we were friends. He was passionate on behalf of the bargaining unit employees. He advocated for them, even when it was clear the position he took was not what management was looking for. He cared. Deeply. He believed in the mission, the essence of the job that could get lost in discussions on production standards and other metrics. When I was on his team, he believed in my potential. He thought I had a bright career at NPC and he championed me to anyone who would listen.
This morning I printed out my 2010 year end performance appraisal and reread it. I don't really recognize myself in his narrative, but I am so glad that he saw my potential. One of my favorite parts was when he talked about my mentoring, "...(she) provided concise direction as a mentor, while consistently delivering outstanding results in all areas of adjudication. Her approach was clearly stated, and seldom overruled." He also said that efficiency and accuracy were key components when discussing my adjudicative prowess. Prowess? Hah! This appraisal reads like a novel. He loved words. He used many, often with much humor, when a few would have sufficed. I wish I had kept some of the outlandish paragraphs that he wrote about the most mundane thing. He was a DJ on the weekend, combining his love of music and the spoken word. And he liked to talk. I gladly listened.
When I had my health scare at the end of 2010, I walked into his office, closed the door, squared my shoulders and got personal. I told him that the doctors had found cells in my uterus that often lead to cancer. I was going to need to take 6 weeks off from work and I felt that I needed to tell him, in case I seemed distracted. He listened. He said the exact right things. He eased my mind. I was grateful then for his response and have tried to emulate his professionalism when I have been faced with an employee in distress.
After his diagnosis, he returned to work for a few weeks, in between radiation sessions and before chemo. I didn't want to be a groupie and just hang out in his office. So I sent him an email, letting him know that I wanted to help in whatever way I could and that I was rooting for him to beat this. He sent me back such a sweet reply, "Your understanding goes a long way in helping me realize what a wonderful thing positive human interaction can be. You have always been able to combine the necessary ingredients of professional behavior and personal interaction in just the right balance...you are a wonderful supervisor and a person I am proud to call a friend and colleague....thank you...Bill McD...."
The day before he had his first chemo treatment, I did go down to his office to let him know that I would be thinking of him. He was fighting against such steep odds -- for his children, his soul mate, and for anybody else who might find a seed of inspiration in his battle. He was going into the chemo phase with trepidation...but he wasn't scared. He was overwhelmed with the outpouring of good wishes. I chided him on his humility. Damn straight people cared! They were expressing their feelings accordingly. I didn't know that would be our last conversation -- I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to tell him how much he had meant to me personally.
He was in the twilight of his career and he was looking forward to retirement, a few more trips to Vegas, and stepping away from the daily drama that envelops our building. There will be so many things that I will miss over the coming days, weeks, and years. His passion for the good fight. His love of Boston sports teams, he had a sports t-shirt for any occasion. The twinkle in his eye when he told a funny story and the way he could use his voice. I will miss his voice. I will miss his support. His humor and kindness. His slightly shaggy white hair and twinkly eyes. His inherent goodness. And his daily response to the question, "how are you today?" "I'm living the dream." He never strayed from that answer. Always, every day, he was living the dream.
Rest in peace, Mr. Bill McDermod. In you memory and honor, I will try to remember to keep living the dream.
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| Photo from his FB page, caption by Bob O. |
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