Francie recently sent me a hilarious YouTube video where they ask kids what their parents do for work. I think my favorite is the first little guy, who says “I don’t know, I’m not there!” with a exasperated shrug that implies “that’s obviously a dumb question”. I have a crayon picture hanging in my office. It’s an assignment our oldest son Brian drew in first grade in answer to the question of where his dad worked. At the time, I had a small civil engineering company, and we were in one corner of the top floor of a 3-story building in San Marcos. Things seem bigger when you’re a kid, so it kind of makes sense that in the picture it looks like we occupy the top floor of a 10-story skyscraper, or maybe in Brian’s mind the entire building was my company. Brian turned out to be prophetic by rendering Pacific Rim Engineering as Pacific Grim Engineering, emblazoned across the top of the building. At the next economic downturn, it was an apt description indeed.
It’s always intrigued me, when you ask people what they do, and they give a title, or some kind of abbreviated job description; trying to picture in my mind what that actually means. “Businessman” is my favorite answer… what does that really mean? Isn’t everyone kind of in some kind of business of one sort or another?
On a recent visit to Carlsbad I had coffee with a few of the people I worked with at the City of Carlsbad, catching up on what the people we worked with are doing now. It makes me think of my job at the City that I retired from in 2017, as Community and Economic Development Director. How would I describe that? I usually describe the divisions that reported to me, some of which people have some idea of, like “Building Department” and “Planning Department”. I have no idea what I would have answered in first grade if asked what my dad did for work.
On our way back to Bend, we stopped at an In-N-Out in Tejon, California. We ordered, and got our order #71. Since they were currently calling out order #44, we had time to wait. I’m a curious guy, so I’m watching the people around me, wondering about their stories. I noticed a guy, maybe in his 40’s, I’ll call him Fred, waiting with his order receipt near the counter where the orders were coming out. The manager, Jonathan per his neat name tag, was calling out the orders as they were ready. I saw Fred engage Jonathan in conversation. I was impressed that Jonathan was having a spirited discussion with him, because it was noon, and the place was slammed with customers. We weren’t close enough to catch more than a word here and there. After some discussion, Jonathan goes back into his office, and comes back holding an apron pin.
It turns out that these apron pins are a hallmark of In-N-Out, and part of a rich company history. In the early days, employees would secure their aprons with diaper pins. In 1973, in a nod to this informal practice, the company created large brass pins with a silver coating, in the same general design as the diaper pins. The next year they introduced the iconic red aprons that you still see today. Today fans can even buy their own apron pin in the In-N-Out online store.
When Jonathan returned with the spare apron pin, Fred lit up with a hug smile, and took a selfie with Jonathan, the two of them holding the pin. Fred’s order appeared shortly thereafter, and he left the restaurant. My curiosity piqued, I went to talk to Jonathan. I felt bad, considering how busy they were, and told him so, but he seemed happy to spend a few moments chatting. Apparently when associates leave the company, they get to keep their hat and apron pin, as a memento of their time at In-N-Out. Fred’s mom had worked for In-N-Out, in Marysville I think, and cherished her apron pin as a reminder of her time as part of the team there. Somewhere along the way, her pin was lost or stolen, Fred had explained. He had asked if Jonathan had an extra, saying it would mean so much to his mom.
Now sure, Fred could have just bought his mom a replacement. But having one from an actual store, used by actual associates, would be so much more meaningful. And as busy as he was, Jonathan was happy to oblige. Whatever else he did that day, while he and his team probably served some 3000 burgers, he went home knowing that he had made one old woman happy.
Jonathan didn’t get to see the smile on her face as Fred handed her the pin and showed her the photo of the handoff. And that’s often the way with work – we may never know the lives that were touched, intentionally or accidentally. With Labor Day coming up, I hope that whatever you do, and whatever your kids think you do, pause and remember that you’re changing lives. Often in small ways, sometimes in big ways.
