A Word About Service and Work Ethic

When Nancy and I were here in February we noticed, and I am constantly reminded now that I'm here, the strong work ethic of the folks here in service roles. From the man who brings me coffee at work, to the indivuals out on the University grounds keeping the place looking beautiful, to the guy who pumps your gas, everyone has a strong desire to work hard and well, and there is no innate sense of entitlement (well, actually there is a HUGE sense of entitlement, but not among the service class). It's very humbling to witness, and causes the need for some serious thought about how to react and live with this as an American. My Tea Service post aside, I'm not especially comfortable at letting folks wait on me hand and foot. I see the effect this has on the people who have lived with this kind of support their whole life and I kinda want to throw up a little.



But the thing I'm learning is that you have to honor the work that any individual is doing. In most cases they have left family and what's familiar to be here (sound like anything we see in Texas?), and without exception there is IMMENSE pride in doing whatever they do well. I am reminded of what Mom and Dad taught me early - whatever you're going to do, from physicist to ditch digger, do it well. Well, they taught their kids that lesson in India, and Nepal, and Sri Lanka, and alot of other places too, apparently.



One of my friends hired a guy to keep their yard pretty. And then he quickly threatened to quit. He caught my buddy sitting in the yard picking weeds one day, and was deeply insulted that his employer didn't think he was doing his job well. The buddy is like me - likes to be outside and work in the yard, and thought he'd help his yard guy out a little. No dice. The guy said he'd been hired to do a job and let him do it. If my buddy needed some yard work then they could designate some little area and it would be all his. But please, Sir, don't jack with the GARDENER'S YARD. Sounds a little riduculous, if it weren't a true story, but it illustrates something about owning what you do.



So what I'm learning how to do (hopefully) is to let them do their thing, but don't take it for granted. So I'll pour that second cup of coffe myself, and stand in his door and ask how his morning's going. He doesn't know what the Hell I'm saying, but he'll know that we're just two human beings sharing some space together.



And I'll hope that's what is right to do.