Steve and I pulled trash for four solid hours continuously, except for about five minutes when we stopped to talk. My shoulder hurt badly each time I put another full barrel on it, and my legs occasionally trembled as I was heading to the street. But the rest of me said, "Go, trashman, go."
I could not have imagined there would be joy in this. Dump. Lift. Walk. Lift. Walk. The hours flew by.
Saturday meant most people were at home on the route. I thought this might mean more exchanges as I made the rounds today. Many people were outdoors working in their gardens or greenhouses. Most looked approachable enough. There wasn't time for lengthy talks but enough to exchange greetings that go with civilized ways. But I was shocked to find that this wasn’t the case.
When I said hello to them, most often the response was either nothing at all, or a surprised stare because I had spoken.
Steve complained angrily on the long ride to the dump: "They don't realize we're human."
"I believe we're doing a service people need, like being a police officer or a fire fighter. I'm not ashamed of it, but I don't go around boasting about it either."
I had originally planned to stay at this employment for only two days but now I'm going to continue. The exercise is great; the lifting gets easier with every load, even if my shoulder muscle is painful. I become faster and neater each day. I'm outdoors in clean air. And, contrary to what people think, I don't get dirty on the job.
John Gardner wrote that a society which praises its philosophers and looks down on its plumbers is in for trouble. "Neither its pipes nor its theories will hold water," he warns. He might have gone a step further and called for respect for both our economists and our trashmen; otherwise, they'll both leave rubbish behind.