Want to be Great? Take lessons in the simple. Listen, Learn, Act. And at the end of the day be grateful.

Want to be Great?  Take lessons in the simple.  Listen, Learn, Act.  And at the end of the day be grateful.

A long time back I was living in central California.  I was substitute teaching at the time.  While I enjoyed the work to degrees it was not enough to meet my financial obligations.  I had a roof over my head, a limited resource to health care, and food on the table.  But it was not enough to help me move forward on my visions of being a full-time musician.  So I signed up with a local temporary business.  In fact, I signed up with many temporary agencies.  My thinking was to use my administrative skills to improve my situation.  What I discovered is that the economy of California was in such a mess that most firms were choosing to adjust their needs, exploit their employees, and hire cheap labor.  This particular part of California had a large number of ‘unregistered’ individuals who were willing to work for a substantially meager salary because of their ‘situation.’   I finally understood that my overall objective would never be met unless I changed my strategy.

So I took manual labor jobs with a company that ‘specialized’ in unskilled labor.  They paid by the day and asked very few questions.  Truth be told, I was never very good with my hands.  When I took ‘shop’ in junior high school I almost failed.  Every ‘thing,’ every ‘project’ I took on seemed to turn into an uneven ashtray or wood for a warm fire for another day.  But I figured I had good health and a willing spirit that would suffice.

I got a long-time temporary position with a construction firm that was building factories and warehouses outside of town.  I supplemented my bloodless salary by charging others for transportation back and forth to the job site.  My field site supervisor took a liking to me.  What I lacked in skill, I made up for in enthusiasm and commitment I suppose.  So the assignment was coming to an end and the gentleman was assigning me any number of odd tasks to keep me coming back. 

One day the gentleman showed up with a new push broom.  He took to the road that was used by trucks delivering dirt, concrete, and various sorts of cargo.  The road was in poor condition covered with dirt, scraps of wood, rusted nails, shards of glass, and numerous cigarette butts.  My task?  Sweep the road and make it look respectable before the keys to the buildings were handed over to their new owner.

So I went about my business.  Here’s where it gets interesting.  There was quite a lot of road to cover.  I divided the area into sections.  Each day I would set a goal of completing one section.  Great plan but it wasn’t really working very well.  I was falling behind my daily goals. 

One day my boss brought over a cup of coffee and a 7-11 Big Gulp.  He knew these were some of my more minor addictions.  I apologized to him because I felt I was not justifying his trust in me.  He asked me to show how I was sweeping the road each day.  I did so.  I moved the broom horizontal to the road, moved a bit to the left and right and did the same.  When I reached the other side of the road I repeated the process in reverse.  He asked me for the broom and went to the road.  He began sweeping.  But he did not move horizontal to the road.  Rather he worked at 45-degree angles.  He covered the same amount of area I had covered in half the time.  What was the lesson?  By moving at angles more area was covered with each sweep and with better results, less rubble left behind.   He smiled at me and told me I was doing a great job and sent me out to get lunch knowing full well I was getting a bit bored with the task.  A week later the road was finished, I was way ahead of schedule, and—I thought and feared—the assignment had come to an end.

At the end of the week he led me to the field office.  It was a mass of boxes, half installed computers and drawings and schematics.  I was in the office about an hour or so and was waiting for the bad news.  So I started putting things in order.  I managed to show some sign of office space.  He walked in and was surprised at best.  He asked me how I did all the work without actually knowing what was there?  I explained to him that it was a matter of thinking in terms of tasks associated with running an office and filter through all items, create stacks, return to the stacks and breaking them down by their function a bit more.  Then rearrange the various storage areas so that they are easily accessible rather than a source of endless obstacles.

I showed him the piles.  He grabbled some paper and joined me asking questions along the way.  By the end of the day the office was in considerably better order.  He actually discovered some schematics that he thought were permanently lost.  Any number of receipts and invoices that his accountant had been hounding him to find appeared.

The point is that I learned a valuable lesson in what some would consider the most menial of tasks, sweeping a road.  And he had learned by a little bit of time and patience that ordering an office took patience, creativity, and time.    We had both learned valuable lessons.

Never, Never, Never assume there isn’t anything to be learned in the simplest of tasks.  There is always a lesson to be learned and—more importantly—to be shared.  We work from our strengths yes.  But we also examine our weakness and seek out the advise of those who would turn those weaknesses into strengths.