I came into work at 11, and right away they told me that I would be on lobby duty for the day. For a split second I wasn't pleased, but I quickly reminded myself that I am not working this job to please myself or to please my employers. I am working this job for God's glory. So that was my attitude for the day: I am working for God.
About a half hour into my shift, I end my first round of cleaning by checking the bathroom. It was relatively early in the day, so I wasn't expecting much of a mess. Mirrors and sinks? Look good. Urinal? Fairly clean. First stall? Not bad at all. Second stall? My heart just about dropped to my feet. The handle was broken, and there was poop in the toilet. But I'm not talking just a little log and a bit of toilet paper. I swear three people pooped in the toilet and filled it with toilet paper. It was as gross as the image that is in your head right now. Trust me. But as my eyes catch their first glance of this catastrophe, my first question was why. Why did these people poop when there was already poop in the toilet? Why were they so stupid? Then I think to myself: maybe if I ignore it, I will get off at five before anyone notices. So I just ignored it. (By the way, that's five and a half hours of nobody noticing a massive amount of poop)
That was around 11:30. We had a lunch rush that began soon after my bathroom check that lasted until 1:30. I was busy enough wiping down tables that I wouldn't have even been allowed to leave the floor to clean bathrooms. So far so good.
As things began to die down around 2, I was sweeping when a lady came over to me. She seemed relatively innocent. She was probably asking where the ketchup was, or maybe one of the soda machines was out of ice. "I threw up a little bit over there." Oh. Wow. Ok. Wasn't expecting that. I go and grab the mop, and thankfully when I return she had wiped up most of the damage. But the smell remained. You know the smell. Relive it with me. Once the wall of vomit odor passed me, I mopped up the rest of the mess, and it ended up being a fairly harmless experience.
But then an old friend came knocking. You guessed it, the poop sitting in stall #2.
Someone finally complained about the bathroom, so it was time to work up the courage to clean it. I walked over to my manager, Christine, and said, "There's a....uh....mess in the men's room, and I have no idea how to go about cleaning it. Oh, and the handle for the toilet is broken." I thought maybe throwing in the broken handle would prompt her to call a plumber and spare me the cleaning duty.
"You're gonna have to put on some gloves and scoop it out into a bag. Sorry"
The moment had arrived. The words I was dreading the whole day finally were spoken. For a moment I considered the possibility of running away. They probably couldn't catch me, right? I laughed in disbelief. I was going to have poop and toilet water all over my hands. Well...all over my gloves. But still it was gross.
I arm myself for battle and confidently strut into the bathroom. I walk over to the toilet, and before I could think too much, hold my breath and start scooping. It was nasty. I'll spare you the details. But I remained sane because I couldn't smell it. So I just imagined that I was scooping Play-Doh or mud. But about halfway through I made the mistake of breathing. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks and, the fact that I was not actually scooping Play-Doh or mud became reality. I did everything in my power to keep myself from making the mess twice as bad (if you know what I mean). As I composed myself, I finally finished the job.
I deposited the excrements in the dumpster and returned to a pool of brown water. I put on a new pair of gloves, and did my best plumber impersonation. I took a look at the handle and after a couple of minutes of finagling, I was able to fix it. It was as good as new. So I flushed the rest down, threw my gloves in the trash, washed my hands 35 times, and proudly told my manager that I had not only saved our customers from having one toilet to poop in but had also fixed the handle.
I had two jobs that I would never have asked to do, but I had one of the best days at work.
This past week, I've been really convicted about how selfish I am. My thoughts revolve around me. My desires revolve around me. My actions revolve around me. The last time I worked in the lobby, God really used it to begin the process of seeing my selfishness for what it really is. The whole time I was complaining to myself about how much I hated the job and how much I would rather do other things.
It was so pivotal to remind myself at the beginning of my shift that I am working for the glory of God. My whole attitude was different. I was joyful. I was singing along to the radio. I wasn't complaining to myself. Sure, it wasn't fun to clean poop or vomit, but as I was doing it, I couldn't help but laugh and be happy. It was strange.
This life is not about myself. Summer Project is not about myself. My time at school is not about myself. My job is not about myself. It is all about giving glory to a God who has shown us the greatest love we will ever know. Let us do everything for Him.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."
1 Corinthians 10:31
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