A few years back, I scattered a bunch of seeds next to a fence in my backyard. My backyard is in Maryland. Black-eyed Susans are the state flower of Maryland. So, it is unsurprising that I was rewarded that summer with a beautiful display of the flowers. I was pretty pleased with myself, even though I did little more than occasionally water the patch and the plants as they grew.
The following year, I did not sow more seeds in that patch, and many fewer plants emerged. There was a big surprise for me, though, in our front driveway, maybe fifty feet from the flower patch. A black-eyed Susan plant had grown from within a crack in the concrete, near the downspout on the side of the garage. And it wasn’t just some spindly and sickly plant. It was healthy, proudly displaying three lovely blooms.
I was amazed. First, how had the seed that produced this plant gotten to the crack? Second, how could this half-inch crack in the cement have provided a hospitable home for the germination of the seed and growth of the plant? Although water was provided often in plentiful amounts via the downspout and it received direct sunlight, the dirt within the crack was not of a garden variety. Nevertheless, the seed found all that it needed in this unorthodox space to grow into something beautiful.
Strange as it may seem, this put me in mind of an experience I had in my first job after college at a B. Dalton Bookseller in downtown Philly. It was the largest bookstore in the city, and I previously wrote about some of my adventures there. The store covered four floors of a converted bank building and was open seven days a week. By and large, the staff members were on the younger side, mostly single, very well-educated and willing to work for minimum wage in order to be around books all day.
Among my colleagues were a few who did not fit the mold. In general, they were more advanced in age and saw working at B. Dalton as just another dead end retail job. One such person who I perceived that way was Delores (not her name), an African-American woman who was about forty years old and had children at home. She was hired as a cashier but spent much of her time at the store stocking shelves. In contrast to other staff, she showed little enthusiasm about books, our customers or her job. As far I could tell, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she just seemed to have little passion or interest in the job.
After a while, the head cashier position became vacant, and Delores was promoted into it. Based on my perceptions of her, that seemed like a bad move. I was wrong.
From her first day in the position, Delores was absolutely excellent. She was engaged and laser focused on the activities at the cash registers. She handled problems professionally and proactively dealt with issues that arose. From my viewpoint, her attitude did a complete turnaround. It was astounding to see those changes.
It is hard to believe that her shift in attitude and passion was because of the money since the promotion to her new position probably resulted in maybe a twenty-five cents per hour increase in her pay. Was it her change in status? Or maybe she felt like she was finally being given a chance to show what she could do. I don’t know. Obviously, though, the store manager could see that Delores had this potential. Maybe it was that belief in her that made the difference.
Sometimes, all it takes is for the correct elements to be present to create a thing of beauty. That was certainly the case with the black-eyed Susans in my driveway, which basically required a growing medium, water and sunshine. I am still not sure what the elements were that set the stage for Delores to become an outstanding head cashier, but seeing her transformation was every bit as beautiful and memorable as the flowers that grew from a crack in the concrete.