. . . wearing a Pogue. Of course, I had to start up a conversation.
"Cool Seiko. Where did you get it?"
"Oh, that was my grandfather's. He was a watch collector. When he died in Mexico, his family took all his watches. This was the only one left."
I told him how significant his Seiko was. His face lit up.
"Wow, I had no idea. My cousins took the Swiss watches and left this for me. They probably didn't know, either."
I let him know my watchmaker, who trained at Seiko, would be able to service it for him, and given the value, both personal and intrinsic, that servicing sooner rather than later would be sensible.
He took down my watchmaker's phone number, and said he'd get on it asap.
Months later, I went back and lo and behold, the same nurse was assigned to check me in. He was wearing the Pogue.
"Gosh, that was fast. How's it running now?"
"Oh, I never took it in. Too busy."