A cry for help.

I work for a glass and mirror company. We do installations for builders, commercial, residential and designers. We have had one job going on for a few months now that I will call The Ninth Floor job.
It all started a few months ago when the owner of the Ninth Floor job calls and wants an estimate for some sliding glass doors. He oks the estimate and we order the materials. It takes quite a while for them to come in but we install them about two months later.
The Association of the building calls and tells us that we installed the wrong kind of doors in his unit. The owner was well aware of this when he ordered them so he agrees to re-order the correct doors. After another two months we install the doors again. We had a few things left to do before he comes back down from up north so we sent over all four of the guys to finish up. Two were installers and two were helpers. Halfway through the day (yesterday) the two installers had to leave the job. One to go do another quote and the other to go get some supplies. When the one came back with the supplies he was quite shocked to find one of the helpers flat ass drunk and the building manager screaming at the top of her lungs to get out of the building.
The Helper decided to raid the customers bar and found himself a gallon of jack daniels! Most of it was gone when the installer finally got him into the back of the work truck. He made him ride in the back because he had pissed himself and vomited all over his shirt.
When the guys got back to the office, the helper fell out of the truck and attempted to ride his bike home. He fell three times in the driveway. The other helpers girlfriend came down the street and told us that he was laying on the ground on one side of the street and his bike was on the other. When the other installer got to the shop he said that the police were taking him to jail.
I get in today and nothing was said till my boss was ready to leave for the day. I asked him "So Martin didn't come in today?" He said "Yes, he had come in but before he could get off his bike I told him to get the fuck out of here." My boss said that he went crazy on Martin and he lost it. Whatever that means I'm sure he said a lot more cuss words than he has in a long time.
I feel kind of bad for Martin. He must have some real troubles that we don't know about. I think I wrote about him in one of my previous posts that his girlfriend in argentina has killed herself. I guess my kind words to him that he should give up the drugs and drinking were not enough. I think that I did what I could, I mean it's not like I could have taken him home with me and showed him that life is a bowl of cherries! I don't even have that.
So what's the lesson here folks? What has this experience taught me? How can I learn from this one? I'm not sure yet. Maybe I will never know. Tallyho...