Nearly 30 years ago, I worked part-time pumping gas down at Flatts Gas Station. Over time, I had quite a few steady clients. Some of them had their own set amount of gas they would purchase.

More often than not, they would give me a tip of $1 or $2. Then there was a particular client who chose to give tips of a different nature. Every time I served him, his tip to me was: “Right now you are working for your money. Invest wisely in Bermudian property and your money will work for you.”

Let’s just say that when you are soaking wet and pumping gas in the cold rain, you are looking for a bit more than words. But nevertheless, this client always took a few minutes to ask how my day was and to say thanks after I handed him back his keys.

About five years ago, I had to get an item for my home and was directed to a particular hardware store to pick it up.

Upon entering, I was greeted with a booming: “Good day sir, how may I be of assistance to you?”

Well, low and behold, the roles were reversed — I was now the client and my former client was now the service provider. I asked for the item and he promptly disappeared into the labyrinth of shelves and boxes.

A few minutes later, he popped up with my item in hand asking if I needed anything else. I decided to test his memory and asked him if he remembered giving out advice to a young man years ago.

He replied: “Kind sir, I give out advice to people every day, so would you be able to narrow it down a bit?”

I reminded him of the days at Flatts Gas Station when he gave me words of advice for tips and how much gas he used to request.

With a broad smile and a firm bear-like shake, he nearly pulled my arm out of the socket shaking my hand ever so vigorously.

From that day forward, I often frequented his shop — not to purchase anything in particular, but to spend time listening to his stories of growing up in Bermuda and his years working in the Caribbean.

Often we simply sat in some well-worn chairs he had placed in a corner that afforded him the ability to greet everyone on their way in or way out.

At other times, we sat outside on the tank top. Regardless of where we sat, our conversations journeyed on a myriad of topics encompassing business, family, religion, and what seemed to be his favourite two topics to preach to me about: politics, which we hardly agreed on, and his love of Caribbean food.

At times when I would cook some curried chicken or curried goat, I would take him a plate and await for his phone call to deliver his verdict on what it was missing or too much of xyz. He was the “Consummate Caribbean Cuisine Critic”.

The moral of my story is that one never knows the depth of a relationship until it is gone. Always take a few minutes to sit down and talk to someone. Pass them some advice and likewise seek advice from them. You never know how far it can go.

The next time I cook, I will be thinking of my client and friend. Cheers to you Mr Michael King.

Love you, Big Guy.