I waved and smiled over my shoulder as a co-worker walked past me and out the door. It was late in the day — closing time. I squished the phone between my shoulder and ear, and looked through the papers on my desk. “So I have to stay late to get it all done and—”
“There are no monuments, you know.”
I readjusted the phone against my ear and wondered if I’d missed a previous part of the conversation. “What?”
“There are no monuments.” The tone of the repeated advice indicated an all-knowing shoulder-shrug. “Your company isn’t going to build you a monument for your efforts.”
My shoulders fell, and I caught the phone in my hand. A monument? I just wanted to do a good job, for my own sense of accomplishment. I didn’t explain my motivation, however, and to my regret, I couldn’t think of any retort to “There are no monuments,” though I recognized it as the worst advice I’d ever heard. The words felt defeatist, pessimistic, and aimed at undermining my self-confidence.
Yet, I couldn’t deny the surface-level truth of the idea. My company will not build a landmark dedicated to me for my efforts. The day I leave, business operations will not stop, and I will soon be forgotten. The idea’s truth, however, was not greater than its probable consequences. I’m grateful that the advice didn’t sit well with me, and that I’ve gained a little wisdom since I first heard it — wisdom I hope to pass along to you.
I’m guessing that you expected this post to include a list of the good and bad advice I’ve received about work. I don’t want to disappoint, so please see the list below. My intention here, however, is to tell you about the worst advice I ever heard and to explain why it was also the best advice. But first, here are the “top” reliable and questionable pieces of advice I’ve heard over my career. (I do love information presented in an easily-digestible list, too):
| <<Reliable Advice>> | << | Questionable Advice>> |
| 1. Dress nicely. | 1. Attach a picture of yourself to your resume. | |
| 2. Take notes. | 2. It’s okay, everyone takes office supplies home. | |
| 3. Greet your co-workers in the morning. | 3. If a co-worker bothers you, ignore them. | |
| 4. Ask questions. | 4. Try to figure it out on your own. | |
| 5. Be friendly. | 5. No one goes to work to make friends. |
A Drive by Historic Inspiration
I sometimes drive by a statue in Berkeley, California, of Assemblyman William Byron Rumford, (1908–1986). Mr Rumford was an American pharmacist and politician known for being the first African American elected to public office in Northern California. In his own words, and from the plaque on that statue, “It is absolutely necessary that all people have the right to move about freely in this nation, to purchase and to sell. I do not think that there should be any restrictions whatsoever based upon race, color, creed, ancestry, or religion.” For thirty years (1950–1981) Rumford Pharmacy served patrons on a street near where the statue is now.
I bet you’ve never heard of Mr Rumford, though his accomplishments are significant on more than a local scale. He was the author of the 1959 California Fair Employment Practices Act, and the 1963 California Fair Housing Act, which banned discrimination in each arena. At the statue-unveiling in Berkeley in July 2016, a lead organizer for the event said, “This is the right way to honor a man who represents honor, excellence, and hard work. When people drive by this sculpture, they’ll be reminded of what they can accomplish.”
I like the simplicity in that premise, though Mr. Rumford’s accomplishments were not simple, nor were the efforts of the committees who championed Mr Rumford’s statue. The simplicity lies in the fact that anyone can aim for honor, excellence, and hard work in their daily lives, and in what we do for a living. The organizer’s comment also explains why we come together to create a life-size monument to someone, and how we benefit from a monument’s steadfast offer of inspiration. Mr Rumford made everyone’s lives better by working hard for something he believed in, and the hope behind Mr Rumford’s statue is to inspire others to follow his example for years to come.
I wonder if anyone ever said to Mr Rumford, “There are no monuments,” or made him feel as though he wasted his efforts. What would Mr Rumford say in response? I imagine that his efforts stemmed from his own sense of accomplishment, and that he never once thought his achievements would lead to a statue of his likeness. I think Mr Rumford worked hard every day so that at night he could briefly rest, knowing that the next day was another opportunity to build on his progress. He wanted to make a positive difference to the lives of others, and set about doing it in the ways he saw fit.
Someone Who Inspires Me Daily
I work with someone who inspires me to hone my work ethic, though he doesn’t work for my company. “Oldtimers” at my company tell me that, not long ago, business agreements “closed” face-to-face. One executive group and their lawyers would fly to another group’s office, sit across from each other at a conference table, and seal the deal. Now, multi-million-dollar agreements happen via documents delivered across the nation overnight.
Our overnight-delivery person, Mike, expertly handles a complex delivery route to residential, retail, and business properties. He delivers a mountain of online-retailer packages, and at the same time, picks up overnight packages from his stops and gets them back to the delivery hub before the last truck to the airport leaves each night — day in and day out, rain or shine. Mike is punctual, reliable, and personable. He calls me Miss Wilson, though I know he’s a grandfather. That’s the other thing — the physicality of Mike’s job. I have no doubt that two-thirds of my co-workers could not physically do Mike’s job, myself included.
Mike’s honor, excellence, and hard work inspire me each time I see him. He takes pride in a job which others may dismiss as mundane. Everyone on Mike’s route benefits from his admirable efforts — so much so that when Mike takes a day off, he warns me ahead of time. The “subs” on Mike’s route often fall prey to the route’s complexity, and I end up running for the drop-off box a few blocks from my office at the last minute. I am always relieved when Mike returns.
It Was the Best of Advice, and the Worst of Advice…
Although I consider it an unintentionally beneficial meaning, “There are no monuments,” speaks to the impermanence of life. Whatever the emergency at work is now, it is not going to matter in time, and that is a good thing to remember. I often see my co-workers stressing out, downing coffee and sugary snacks, over tasks that will dissolve into unimportance within a month. Then, the next month, they stress out about the next emergency and consume even more coffee and snacks. Sound familiar?
If I ever confront this advice again, I now know what I will say: pessimism is a cowardly alternative to hope. Life and it’s challenges may be impermanent, and I will remember that, but I reject the idea that I should see all concentrated effort at work as irrelevant or pointless. Also, the impact we make on each other, positive or negative, lasts — and given the choice, I would rather make a positive impact on the daily lives of my co-workers than a dispiriting one. It’s a simple thing to achieve, from my perspective — I work hard to satisfy my own sense of accomplishment, try to excel in the few things under my control, and honor my co-workers and the opportunities I have, each day, to build on my progress.