Honoring Benson with everyone yesterday gave me courage to share what brought some chuckles and warmth when reflecting back:

Benson epitomized “everything, everywhere all at once”. I remember him running around Harvard Square in the winter of Cambridge when one could see their own breath and people were barely willing to walk. “Enjoy your run!” I messaged when I saw him zooming by. “Omg how did you recognize me? I thought I fly pretty incognito. Also next time just jump in front of me,” he said, “I’ll accept liability for any injury that might happen.”

If we hung out late at night, in his living room or in nyc, he often kindly offered to walk us home or to the train station. “I’ll take this one” he’d say, like a superhero assuming a shift of duty. Yet after ensuring our safety, he’d disappear in a blink of eyes. “Are you ok?” “Ofc. Called my parents on the way home. Was just talking to them”. Honestly still don’t know how he managed to be so present for everyone.

His anecdotes took us to so many corners of the world. Lumber factory in Sweden, wines in Italy, housing domestic workers in Mexico City, barely missing an earthquake in Japan. When we finally crossed cities after tens of attempts in spring of 2023, he said “I just need to catch a flight to Switzerland in 3.5 hours and I’m craving pho.” I ran 2 miles to meet him and we went to Le’s, which I label as Benson’s favorite mediocre pho place. After dinner, instead of getting a Uber like a normal millennial, Benson hopped into a taxi and offered to drop me off without realizing it was cash only. The driver got mad at us and Benson had to run to an ATM while I stayed in the car with his luggage as hostage. Thankfully Benson came back to the rescue and somehow, hangouts always turned into adventures.

Benson once wished me “Omg happy birthday!!!” 3 months after the actual date, promised to do better the following year and explained “I’m everywhere all at once in time :)” Now I’ve come to believe it. Because the only thing that fits the profile - runs really fast, travels everywhere, accompanies everyone, defines and defies time - is light. That’s what he was and will always be.

How I Accidentally Gained a Work Little Brother in a Revolving Door

I met Benson in the most awkward way possible, inside a one-person revolving door in Chelsea. Emphasis on one person. He somehow squeezed in behind me, so we were stuck together like two overly polite penguins. Every step was a synchronized shuffle.

Quickly, he said, “Sorry… I’m from California. We don’t really do revolving doors. I thought this was a group door? Like in the movies.” Apparently, this wasn’t even his first offense. He’d already trapped himself in a revolving door with Ji earlier that day. A pattern was forming.

Naturally, I told him, “Well, now we’re best friends.”He said. “Okay.”And that’s how I adopted a work little brother.

From that day on, Benson became my go-to for random chats and ridiculous questions. He’d ask for advice on jobs, school, Cyber Monday deals… we really covered all the important categories.

We ran a few half-marathons together (he ran, and I tried), and he always had one of his plants on my desk. He also joined me and my friends on a trip to Puerto Morelos, Mexico. I learned to kitesurf in that trip while he happily stayed on the beach with a book, living his best introvert life. We snorkeled in caves, explored secret cenotes, went club dancing, and at one point, he dragged us to climb a pyramid like enthusiastic archaeologists who forgot sunscreen. He got the nickname Benjamin on that trip (I don’t remember the story or why).

When he came back to BIG the second time, he was thrilled because—drumroll—he was no longer the baby of the office. He even told the new juniors I was his older sister. Some actually believed it!! I’m Latina. He’s… not. But for a while, I played along. I was Juarbe-Chien. It was a weird era.

Back at the office, we resumed our favorite routine: Kit-Kat breaks. We didn’t smoke, so Kit-Kats were our vice of choice. Dark chocolate, specifically. Unfortunately, once we moved to the new Dumbo office, those were suddenly harder to find.

Solution? Benson ordered a bulk box of 48 dark chocolate Kit-Kats and ran a Kit-Kat vending operation exclusively for me. He sold me exactly four per day at cost, strictly no profit. Think of it as an emotional support Kit-Kat ration system.

And that is how a California boy with revolving door confusion became my chocolate dealer, my fake brother, and one of my favorite people.