The Story - part 2

George grabbed his coat and ran downstairs and out the door to the trash can. The man had already left the parking lot by the time George came outside. George looked around to see if anyone was nearby, and then reached into the trash can.

The trash can was about half filled with papers, old food, bottles, and all kinds of rubbish that people had been throwing in it all day. However, it only took a moment for George to spot the packet of paper off to one side, which he immediately recognized. It was indeed his report. He pulled it out of the can and stared at it, not believing what he was seeing. He could not figure out why it had been thrown away.

He took the report and walked back into the building. Once inside, he stood against the wall in the lobby, wondering what he should do. Maybe he should throw it back in the trash and forget about it. Maybe this was all a mistake.

Just then, as George stood and thought, his boss came by as he was leaving for home. George quickly stuffed the packet of paper in his pocket.

“Goodnight, George!” his boss said.
“Uh…um…yes…goodnight!” stammered George.
“Is something wrong, George?” asked his boss, stopping in front of him. “You look upset.”
“Something terrible has happened, sir.”
“What?”
“Its hard to say.” He pulled the crumpled report from his pocket to show his boss. “It was in the trash can outside.”

George’s boss took the report from George and looked at it briefly. Then said “Come upstairs with me. We need to talk about this.”

They both walked up to his boss’s office and sat down. George’s boss sat in his big chair behind his desk and George slumped himself into the cushioned chair in front of the desk.

“George,” his boss started “this must make you feel awful.” He held the report up in the air. “I know you worked hard on this and to see it discarded must make you feel pretty badly.”

“Yes.” said George looking down at the floor.
“I want you to know George, that your reports are stellar. Our customer is very pleased with your work and pays us well for it, which is why I can pay you well.” George had heard his boss tell him this many times and he knew it to be true. His boss continued.

“Let me ask you something, George. Do you remember those steaks you grilled last week?”
“Yes, sir.” George recalled telling his boss about them and how they had come out just perfect.
“As I recall, you like yours medium well, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“So, how did you explain that to Carl at the meat counter.” George was confused.
“I don’t understand.”
“Well,” said his boss leaning back in his chair “you bought those steaks from Carl, and he cut them just for you. Certainly you let him know that you would be cooking them medium well and you asked him if that was ok, didn’t you?”
“Well, no, why would I do that? He’s just selling steaks.”
“Really? But didn’t he work on them? Didn’t he do a good job?” George was starting to see where this was going.
“Sir, steaks are not the same thing as reports.”
“Aren’t they? You work just as hard as Carl, you make a product for your customer, and you are paid for your work.”

George was sure that there was a difference, but just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“George,” his boss continued, “our job here is please our customers. They need a well-written report and we provide that report to them. Whether they save it or throw it away after receiving it, is not our concern – no more than it is Carl’s concern how you cooked that steak he sold you. For whatever purpose our customer needs his report, our job is to get it to him.”

His boss was starting to make sense. Maybe George had become too attached to his work and forgot that it really was something he was making for a customer. Maybe he was being selfish in expecting the customer to revere his work as something more than what it was. A report.

“Let me say again, George, that your work is outstanding. I hope this has cleared up any confusion you have about what happened today.”

George left his boss’s office feeling a lot better than he had going in. He still was unhappy to see his report thrown in the trash, but maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t his report at all. It was the customer’s report. Just like those were his steaks, not Carl’s.

That night, George lay in bed thinking about all that had happened that day. He thought about his report in the trash and what his boss had told him. He thought about the steaks. He decided he had been looking at his job wrong for years. He had been viewing the reports as a creation of his, to be admired, but it was actually a product to sell to a customer, nothing more. He realized that pride in one’s work had to come from within.

George rolled over and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be a very different day.

(to be continued…)

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