At my desk I am slaving away to finish the slides and order I will speak for an upcoming presentation.
It is hard work, requiring my mind to churn at an extreme rate, anticipating how the audience may respond and the possible turns speeches can potentially take with a phrase or word, song or comedy bit.
I have to stand up, take a walk around, look outside, predicting what could happen if I insert a Lady Gaga song or Raptor impression to drive a point home, or choose instead to share a story the client asked me to include from their employee legacy vault of experiences that will most likely bring the audience to tears.
I look from the 3rd story down to the grass below, contemplating the struggle I’m under in this thing I call WORK.
Down in the weeds, bark, and bushes, I see a man hard at work.
He is up and down, on hands and knees, wrestling with what appears to be sprinkler lines that won’t go the direction he needs them to.
The pipes put up a fight, so he jumps back up, goes to his cart, grabs a tool, returns and cuts the line.
He stands triumphantly, raises the tool to the sky, like He-Man with a sword, looks up at it in glory and with pride for finally completing the job.
I can see him smiling and squinting into the sun.
He returns to the line, glues the ends to a joint, redirects the distance, and perfectly aligns sprinklers with the nearly dead bushes he’s needing to get water in the perfect spot.
He is dressed in a large brimmed hat, sweat through his shirt, long sleeves in the blazing sun, pants, boots, gloves.
I can tell by the spring in his step that he loves his WORK.
He’s not trudging away, he’s joyfully tackling a task I know for a fact I could never handle.
Yard work…yikes. Thank goodness for my wife and her handling of ours, otherwise the HOA would fine us weekly.
I admire this man, hard at work.
I return to my work, in casual shorts, in an air conditioned room, earbuds playing motivational instrumental cinematic music to keep the juices of creativity flowing.
I chop out a few slides, redirect the music portion to another section, commit to the story that will bring tears, and know what route I should take for the next speech.
I LOVE this WORK.
Soon it will be manifest on a stage.
He waters bushes and plants at the place where I work, and he loves what he does, I can easily tell.
I walk past those bushes every time I come to the office and now I admire his work all the more, since I’ve seen him in the struggle.
He keeps The Promise by choosing to do his work well, every day, whether anyone happens to see him do it, or not.
He takes ownership, pride, and serves with integrity.
He inspires me and I don’t know his name.
But I know a guy who raises a PVC pipe cutting tool to the sky in joy and glory whenever it does the job well.
I raise my Laptop to the sky at the desk and say, “The Speech is ready!”
If it goes well on stage I’ll get a standing ovation and be invited to return again.
I love my WORK.
I hope you too, love yours.
Happy Labor Day, my friends, and never forget Your Leadership Promise is to be so fully committed, so drawn to doing the job well, that no matter how tough it may be, by the end of every day you too feel The Love of Work.
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~ Jason Hewlett
Husband, Father, Writer, Mentor, Hiker
- Speaker Hall of Fame * Award-Winning Entertainer * Mentor
- World’s Only Keynote Speaker utilizing entertainment, musical impressions, and comedy to teach The Promise
- Author of “The Promise To The One”