Not in Their Job Description

In an earlier blog post, I wrote about saying thank you to the people you meet in the ordinary course of the day performing their jobs.  [Just Doing Their Jobs, 1/3/13, in case you're interested]  Would you ever thank someone for NOT doing their job?

It's not what you think.  I know that sounds like, oh, you're in the grocery aisle, and you can't find the quinoa [because you think it's spelled keenwa and you're looking in the pasta section instead of the rice*], and the store employee walks up, and you ask, "Excuse me, can you tell me where to find the quinoa?"  And the employee says "no" and walks away.  That's a serious case of Not Doing their Job.  If you said "thank you" in that situation, it would include a lot of eye rolling and sarcasm.

I am talking about the people you know who go beyond their job description.  They do more.  They help more.  They listen to a great idea and instead of simply nodding and sighing, "yeah, that would be nice," they put the idea into action.  This describes my friend, Bryan.

Bryan is an awesome teacher.  We have taught 3rd grade together for years, I've lost count.  I could go on and on about his dedication to his craft and to his students.  Remember, teaching is his job.  It would sound shocking to thank him for Not doing his job.  But that's what this is about.

Today, the staff at our elementary school returned from a 3-week winter break.  We expected to return to the same campus, the same classrooms, the same lunchroom.  But during our break, Bryan didn't do his job.  He did something else.  He painted the teachers' lunchroom.  Along with teachers Manuel and Francisco,  he turned the room from a dirty, dismal, institutional cell to a relaxing, calming, comfortable retreat.  Bryan didn't just say, "wouldn't it be nice if...?"  He didn't say "That's not my job."  He turned a good idea into something real and great.

Today's thank you note is addressed to Bryan.

Thank you, Bryan, for making this room a reality, an oasis for us all.  Thank you, God, for Bryan.

*I know this because just two weeks ago my 22-year-old daughter brought home a box of quinoa, and I said, "Hey, I thought it was spelled keenwa, and I had no idea this was a kind of rice thing.