I was teaching the newest Shopboy, a retired Hispanic Army man, the closing procedures at Homeshop. We had just finished scrubbing the urinals and toilets, and I pulled out the big yellow mop bucket. “You’ve seen one of these before, right?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, with a sad smile. “But where I worked, there were always maintenance guys that did the mopping.”
Oh yeah, Shopboy, I know just how you feel. Even in Corporate Hell there was a second shift of broken-down Eastern European women who did the mopping and cleaning, and gave us shy gap-toothed smiles if they got in our way. “Well here, we’re the maintenance crew,” I said to Shopboy.
I did my mopping with a bad attitude. The night before I had done my straighening and cleaning with extra vigor. I was certain that the teenage girls didn’t pay as much attention to their closing duties. I turned all the product labels forward. I scrubbed the walls around the toilet. I was going to do my best, even if I was only cleaning a public bathroom. Then the next day, my manager said that I had missed a bunch of items that should have been straightened up.
My eighteen year old manager was struggling with a PeopleSoft application, one that I used to support and write training manuals for. And here I was mopping the floors. It just didn’t seem right.
Then I thought about Jesus. The son of God, working as a carpenter in a backwater town, and then walking around on foot preaching to the fishermen and IRS agents. Then he was crucified, a death penalty that was the most shameful way to die unless a Jew died from eating, like, rotten pork or something. The bible said he scorned the shame of that death. It wasn’t just that he ignored that humiliation – he disdained to even internalize that shame.
Am I better than Jesus? Is mopping up after customers so much worse than Jesus’s humble life? All those humbling experiences did not change who he was – King of Kings, Lord of Lords. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember who I am, the daughter of a King; the Beloved of God. Especially when I clean a urinal. But what I do does not change who I am. I am thankful for that reminder, especially in these humbling times.
One of my favorite saints is known for saying the most menial task can be turned into the most resounding praise, the most sublime prayer, if we do it with love of God in our hearts.
Very nice post, Angela. Very nice.
[...] presents Shopgirl gets over herself posted at angelawd, saying, “A humble task gives me a most Christ-like [...]
Angela,
What a great lesson for all of us. Thanks for sharing what you learned cleaning urinals.
Good girl, great attitude, great message. I was a CNA a long time before I was an RN. I am still very good friends with and very much respect the CNA’s I work with, I always remember where I came from and am not “too good” to do the menial tasks. Your actions speak volumes to those around you!
That is totally frustrating … but you have a great attitude. It’s a good reminder that I should improve mine
Gonna stop whining about having to pick up the Girl’s dirty undies off the bathroom floor now. Thanks for the reminder of what is really important. We all sometimes forget our roots. xoxo
[...] presents Shopgirl gets over herself posted at angelawd, saying, “Even the most humble tasks can bring us closer to Jesus’s [...]
[...] found a great post about humility at the Pop Goes the Gospel Blog Carnival called Shopgirl gets over herself, posted at angelawd.com, where the author tells us how scrubbing urinals helped her remember her [...]