|
I had been working much too long on this job. I guess things could have
been worse. I certainly wasn't doing hard labor. But going door to door asking question’s as a representative of the
federal government wasn't the most satisfying position either. It was August. It was hot. I had to wear a tie. "Hello. My
name is Bob Perks and we are doing a survey in this neighborhood... "I'm not interested! Good bye!" Slam-lock.
You
can't imagine how many times I heard that. I finally caught on and began with, "Before you slam the door, I am not selling
anything and I just need to ask a few questions about yourself and the community." The young woman inside the doorway, paused
for a moment, raised her eyebrows as she shrugged her shoulders, confused by my rude introduction.
"Sure. Come on in.
Don't mind the mess. It's tough keeping up with my kids." It was an older home in a section of the valley where people with
meager income found affordable shelter. With the little they had, the home looked comfortable and welcoming.
"I just
need to ask a few questions about yourself and family. Although this may sound personal, I won't need to use your names. This
information will be used..."
She interrupted me. "Would you like a glass of cold water? You look like you've had a
rough day."
"Why yes!" I said eagerly.
Just as she returned with the water, a man came walking in the front
door. It was her husband. "Joe, this man is here to do a survey." I stood and politely introduced myself.
Joe was tall
and lean. His face was rough and aged looking although I figured he was in his early twenties. His hands were like leather.
The kind of hands you get from working hard, not pushing pencils. She leaned toward him and kissed him gently on the cheek.
As they looked at each other you could see the love that held them together. She smiled and titled her head, laying it on
his shoulder. He touched her face with his hands and softly said, "I love you!"
They may not have had material wealth,
but these two were richer than most people I know. They had a powerful love. The kind of love that keeps your head up when
thing’s are looking down.
"Joe works for the borough," she said.
"What do you do?" I asked.
She
jumped right in not letting him answer. "Joe collects garbage. You know I'm so proud of him."
"Honey, I'm sure the
man doesn't want to hear this," said Joe.
"No, really I do," I said.
"You see Bob, Joe is the best garbage man
in the borough. He can stack more garbage on the truck than anyone else. He gets so much in one truck that they don't have
to make as many runs," she said with such passion. "In the long run," Joe continues, "I save the borough money. Man hours
are down and the cost per truck is less." There was silence. I didn't know what to say. I shook my head searching for the
right words. "That's incredible! Most people would gripe about a job like that. It certainly is a difficult one. But your
attitude about it is amazing," I said.
She walked over to the shelf next to the couch. As she turned she held in her
hand a small framed paper.
"When we had our third child Joe lost his job. We were on unemployment for a time and then
eventually welfare. He couldn't find work anywhere. Then one day he was sent on an interview here in this community. They
offered him the job he now holds. He came home depressed and ashamed, telling me this was the best he could do. It actually
paid less than we got on welfare."
She paused for a moment and walked toward Joe. "I have always been proud of him
and always will be. You see I don't think the job makes the man. I believe the man makes the job!"
"We needed to live
in the borough in order to work here. So we rented this home," Joe said. "When we moved in, this quote was hanging on the
wall just inside the front door. It has made all the difference to us, Bob. I knew that Joe was doing the right thing," she
said as she handed me the frame.
It said: “If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep the streets
even as Michelangelo painted or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that
all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, "Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well." - Martin Luther
King
"I love him for who he is. But what he does he does the best. I love my garbage man!"
So how was your day?
Did you give it your best? Or did your attitude get the best of you?
Author Unknown
|
