Groundwork
I feel the sand shift under my suit as I slide on my nametag.
The click of the time clock is in tune with my breath, and my
thoughts are quaking, under the weight of a new bottom floor
to start on. To start with there’s introductions and explanations
of everyone’s part in the skyscraper. I hear a hundred names
matched with a hundred faces that form the foundations.
I’ve always dreamed of placing beams with a team like this
they move with grace from place to place, no worry in their eyes
no panic in their steps. I can tell how much I stand out around
people like this. People with logical sound proof ideas, months of
training, and working, and improving their talented shelfs. Their
windows of confidence visibly contributing to the world. I worry I’ll cause
catastrophe with my lack of experience and freshly ground newness.
I feel my lump of sand begin to dirty the floor and suddenly
I can’t do this anymore. I shut down. I clock out. At lunch we
all gather round. I eavesdrop and find a series of doubts.
While everyone’s eating, they start to settle down. You hear
the stress, and the worry, and I realize that they all need help
with the mess. This building is made cautiously and beautifully
through trial and error, through a best friend or two
helping each other. Someone notices me sitting alone,
they make space for me at their own table and show me
the building blocks of tools available. Not just the ones in my
tool kit, but they also let me borrow theirs, and lend me advice
that makes everything easier. At the end of the day no one really
knows how the building stands so high without falling or faltering.
But do their best to support each other so it can stand against the
gorgeous skyline that makes up this world of work. I add in my sand
to the groundwork each day, in absolute awe that this thing still stands.
I clock in to work and we build the skyscraper together the best we can.
Written by: STAR TABOR
