My sister came to visit this past weekend. We were going for a walk down Wells Street in Old Town. I noticed several“Help Wanted” signs in the windows.
For me, a “Help Wanted” sign is exciting. It is a public declaration that “our business is growing” and “we have an opportunity for a person to work.”
As I explained to my sister how thrilled I was to see life come into my neighborhood, she very quickly told me she saw it differently.
She said, “It’s great that there are jobs. But those are all crappy jobs.”
I’ll be honest: I do not understand the term, “crappy job.” It’s an oxymoron to me.
Inside every job – every job – there is an inherent dignity. The underpinning of a job is the unstated understanding that“we need you.” In fact, we need you so much that we will pay you money in exchange for your work.
So is dignity not worth pursuing if it involves sweeping floors? Or serving customers? Or cooking food? I have done all of those jobs, and I took pride in the work I did at all of them. They were chances to serve others.
Is dignity determined by the amount of money you make? Of course not. Otherwise volunteering, which is often the most rewarding experience in the world, would be beneath all of us.
It seems there is an arbitrary, elitist designation of some jobs as being beneath human dignity.
I have a story about crappy jobs. One of my good friends is a fantastic public speaker. One day I asked him how he built this talent.
My expectation was he was going to say he had a fantastic coach, or took a course that changed his life. Instead, he told me, “In college, I sold Milwaukee Brewers baseball tickets door to door.”
That was unexpected.
He went on to tell me, “It was likely a pyramid scheme. But I got immediate feedback on my pitch (if they bought Brewers tickets). And over the course of the summer, I learned how to make a convincing argument to people in a matter of seconds.”
In college, if I had seen a job to sell baseball tickets door to door, I would have pursued other options. But my friend Bob Ewing used this job to change the trajectory of his life, practicing a skill that would lead him to become a public speaking coach.
Not such a crappy job after all.
My father was an air traffic controller. In addition to the ability to tolerate the high level of stress, one of the requirements was to rotate between first, second and third shift.
I remember lying in bed as a kid and hearing the sound of my dad’s razor as he was getting ready to go to work in the middle of the night. What I remember most was the feeling I had: the feeling of pride that people needed my dad to help them get home safely to their families.
I don’t know how much money my dad made. It wasn’t a lot. But that is not where dignity comes from. It comes from the job. It comes from work. It comes from improving other people's lives based on what you create.
Jobs are opportunities for people to learn, to grow, to have pride and dignity. Nearly 1-in-10 people in Chicago are currently unemployed and missing out on those opportunities.
As I walked down Wells Street, I was overwhelmed with joy to know some people will answer those “Help Wanted” calls and know the amazing benefits of work. They will find dignity in their jobs. They will lead richer lives through service to others.
The only crappy part would be to deny their dignity or worth.