Owning a small business has taught me many things, but above all it has helped me be more responsible. There is one person for the job when the recycling was not picked up last week. That’s me.
We often joke about how folks romanticize working at a bookstore, imagining access to all the books for hours on end. We do love books and we do read heartily… on our own time, the time we earn by helping other find their books.
In the bookshop, we receive, we tag, we ship, we clean, we help people find the item they need. That’s what you should be into if you want to work in a bookstore — a desire to help others. Sure, there are many jobs that require that tendency, but to get to be intimately familiar with books while you do it? I suppose it is a great job.
So this morning I rolled in at 6:21 am, concerned that I was late to meet the recycling truck. I cleaned up the bins outside which were covered with an unknown neighbor’s trash (which would have prevented the recycling from being picked up again), gathered some breakfast I had brought with me, and waited in the cold morning air.
Soon enough the truck appears in the distance. I imagine living on the alley, having this reliable Tuesday morning cacophony. Would it bother me? Likely not as I rise early even on off days. I imagine rising even earlier to drive this route, unlocking and staging, raising and lowering, driving just a few meters forward to the next bin. I’ve done repetitive work early in the morning, but always inside. I prefer the heat of an immense oven to the grandeur of the cold morning sky. I could pop out to see the reds and yellows across the deep blue sky lightening by the second anyway. All day chilled by the early morning air is not for me.
The man is understanding, but this is not his route. Any solutions to the challenge of how to avoid missed pick ups will need to be sorted out with another driver. I’ll try again next week. I remember it is a holiday week for some. I imagine my regular driver sleeping in with his family at some distant relatives distant guest room after a long drive the weekend before. Perhaps he awakes early, even though he has no need. This is just what he does now. Up early, but instead of lifting bins with his machine he lifts children with his arms, relishing the time we set aside through the year for these few days of respite. This is a time to reconnect, a time to remember why we get up early to serve our neighbors in our own special way.
I vow to make this my Tuesday ritual. Clean the bins of mostly cardboard so they are ready for departure. Breakfast in the cold morning air. Walk through Old Town and remember why I do this.
Solomon Everta 