His shirt was bright orange. It was loud.
The only thing louder was his voice. He was cheering on one of the athletes from the other school. Thunderous claps came from his hands.
Judging from his uniform, he was a garbage man.
The swim meet was held at a private pool in a nicer part of town, South Tampa (for those of you familiar with the Tampa Bay Area). The meet was between three local high schools on a gloomy evening. The rain taking a breath long enough for the meet to begin.
The bleachers were soaked. I was standing on the top row. I didn’t have a towel or a chair. I stood leaning against the railing. A gentlemen walked up a few minutes before the meet was to begin. He wore a bright orange shirt with reflective stripes down the sleeves. He took his seat next to a woman, she was holding a baby, maybe a year old.
The whistle blows and you hear splashes and cheering. The man is engaged. The next round of athletes step up to the block. He stands. Whistle. Splash. They are off. He is yelling, clapping, yelling… right down to the end.
He moves now to the chainlink fence in front of the stands. A tall, slender, young man walks towards him from the pool. He smiles. They share an awkward greeting through the fence and they talk for a minute or two. There is no telling what the relationship was between the man and the athlete. Maybe father and son, uncle and nephew, maybe a step-dad, mentor… it doesn’t really matter; they were connected.
Why share this story? There are two key takeaways that I want to document for myself and the sake of the internet.
- Here is a man. A man that shows up in the nicest part of town in his work uniform. The uniform of a garbage man. Surrounded on all sides of this swim complex by exotic cars, million dollar homes and any number of other luxury items. He showed up. He wasn’t embarrassed either. He did not hang his head. He did not make himself small because of his surroundings. He was not quiet… He had no concern for his surroundings or for the people and what they might think. He was there with a purpose.
- Here is a young man. A young man that couldn’t wait to come see this man. He wasn’t ashamed. He didn’t drag his feet or hang his head. He didn’t motion him over to the side of the fence to make their conversation less obvious. He didn’t simply wave. He had no concern for his surroundings or for the people and what they might think.
As a teenager, I worked at McDonald’s. There were plenty of times that I was ashamed of a friend coming in and seeing me unexpectedly. I didn’t want to stop at the store on the way home after my parents picked me up. I didn’t want anyone to know I worked there. I was not like the man at the swim meet then. I am more like him now.
The Stoics had a practice of intentional embarrassment. They would dress in worn clothes, they would lay down in the middle of busy markets, they would intentionally make themselves uncomfortable and draw attention. Why? So they would remember that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t that bad. They did this to desensitize themselves. This way, when there was something worth fighting for, worth saying, worth standing up for, they would not fear the attention that might come from it. They had practiced.
The man at the swim meet didn’t need help detaching his identity from his outside appearance and/ or public opinion. Maybe that is because he has done it for so long. Maybe he has already heard all the comments and is immune to them. Maybe it is just that he had a higher purpose on that night and was not concerned with the situation. I will never know.
This exercise from the Stoics is something that we could all be better for practicing. I can think of times I didn’t want to show up at the gym without a hat bc my hair was crazy. Really? There are times where maybe you are shy to raise your hand and speak up at a meeting or an event. You aren’t comfortable with that added attention. We hide and stay small.
The Stoics were onto something… they viewed this as a muscle that they would intentionally work on. How might we work on this? Laugh if you want, but are you willing to wear a shirt backwards and walk through the mall, how about ask for a discount on your Starbucks coffee, what about lay down in the middle of a store, wear mismatch shoes, not do your hair for work, the list goes on…
I know, I know…
But, what will they think of me? That is the wrong question, what does it matter what they think of you?
It. Doesn’t.
