This is based on a conversation I just had with an Ambassador for Downtown Partners. She was great. Not totally sure I’m the guy having the pity party but I can tell you this, she did inspire me to come in and work my butt off. It was like Mac McAnally’s wonderful song “It’s my job” came to life.
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It was 6:30 a.m. and the sun was peeking over the horizon like a giant red eye. The heat of the day had not clocked in yet. Just the humidity.
She was at work already, sweeping and making sure that the curbs of her town were tidy. Sweat dotted her brow, revealing her day’s effort so far. Dust clouds formed around her ankles but her mind was clear. It was her job. Not the job of her dreams — but her job. And she was going to do the best that she could at it. It was her attitude. An attitude based on pride.
The young professional walked down sidewalk. His face wore a frown from a recent pity-party hangover. He hated being at work this early. He hated a long list of things. He was holding a grudge. And you can’t reach for your dreams when you’re holding a grudge.
He had dust clouds, too. His were in his mind.
He came upon the woman with the broom and said hello. Her smile grabbed him instantly. How could she be smiling? Small talk ensued and then she got back to work. The heat of the day was on its way and would not wait for her to finish.
The young man went back into his office, looked out the window and watched the lady finish up her task. He thought about her attitude for a moment. She may have not loved what she was doing, but she loved her job. She had energy. She had smile. She had pride in her work. And her love of her job meant that she’d probably get a better job. Life was funny like that.
He looked down at his to-do list and ripped the page out. He sat down and wrote a new one with the gusto of his new street-sweeping friend. And then borrowed her smile for the day. He tried on a new attitude. It fit quite well.
The street sweeper had swept more than just a curb that morning. She had swept the cloud of pity from between a young man’s ears.
Love this! My encounters with the Jackson Ambassadors have always been positive. It’s one of the best things that has happened to downtown Jackson.
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Wonderful!
I think Mac McAnally met her metaphorical father.
I thought of “It’s My Job” when I spoke to her (and I used to sing it when I was a janitor). I doubt she had ever heard the song. And for the record, I don’t have an uncle who owns a bank and is a self-made millionaire.