The Sanitation Worker Made Me Cry. In a good way.

This morning, I got my garbage and recycling ready, and 30 minutes later realized I had forgotten to add some paper. I quickly put it in a bag and went outside, just in time to see the garbage truck and the sanitation worker coming by on the other side of the street. He had already done my side. I went over and asked if he could take my bag anyway. He kindly did.

I said hi. I thanked him. I wished him a good day. Making sure he could tell I actually saw him. Genuinely.

I like to do my best to treat everyone the same, whether it’s a sanitation worker, a supermarket cashier, or a police officer. I’ll be honest, I don’t always get it right. I had to go to the RCMP recently, and I wasn’t my kindest self that day. I’m not proud of it. I’m aware of it. I own it.

But this morning, something moved me.

I stood there thinking about this man, and all the people who do this kind of work. They show up every day, mostly in the background. We rarely see them. We think about them even less. And we almost never stop to actually acknowledge them, or have a real moment of human connection with them.

Without them, society wouldn’t go round. Not even a little bit. We got a glimpse of this during Covid, and we see it whenever there’s a strike. That’s usually when we’re forced to notice just how essential this work really is. But we shouldn’t need a crisis to remember it.

I felt a big wave of compassion, and a few tears came. I felt connected to this man at a human level. And I found myself wishing we could all slow down and connect more like this, instead of taking so much for granted in our day-to-day lives.

And I’ll be honest about something else too, because I think it matters.

Our bias toward people in service jobs tends to run pretty negative. We assume they’re not educated. Not smart. That they’re doing this job because they couldn’t do anything else. I know these thoughts exist, because I’ve had them too, and I’m not proud of that either.

But I’ve also been on the other side of them.

I’ve worked as a nanny, including into my 40s. And I might have to again to pay the bills. And I’ll be honest, there’s shame that comes with that. Because I know what some people think: “She’s still a nanny at 40? She must not be very smart. She must not have been able to build a real career.” And that hurts. A lot. Even when I know that’s not the true story, not mine, and not theirs either.

Some of these thoughts are unconscious. We don’t even notice we’re having them. Which is exactly why it’s worth pausing, like I did this morning, and asking ourselves: who are we actually looking at? And are we really seeing them?

So today I’m thinking about all of you, all of us, who do work that often goes unseen. Service jobs, background work, essential work. Work that is rarely acknowledged and often not well paid, and yet holds everything together.

Without you, none of this works.

Thank you for showing up, humbly, every day.

I see you. 🤍

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