Thursday, December 15, 2005
I LOVE MY GARBAGE MAN
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I LOVE MY GARBAGE MAN
By Bob Perks
Dec 15 2005 05:00AM
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 questions 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 things 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?
"I believe in YOU!"
Copyright Bob Perks www.bobperks.com
PRAYER
"Lord, let your light burn brightly in my heart that I may know the
joy and freedom of your kingdom. Fill me with your Holy Spirit and
empower me to witness the truth of your gospel and to point others
to Jesus Christ."
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