I was watching a scene from A Memory of a Killer recently that stuck with me.
In the scene, a young guy finishes washing dishes and thinks he’s done. The boss checks them and tells him to do them again because they aren’t clean enough. The kid protests, saying someone else doesn’t even do dishes. The boss responds with something simple but powerful: when his own son had that job at the same age, the dishes were spotless because he had pride in his work.
When the kid shrugs and says, “It’s just dishes,” the boss gives the real lesson.
It’s not about the dishes.
It’s about being given a task and doing it right.
That scene resonated with me because it reminded me of something I learned long before I ever ran a business.
My first job started at midnight.
I worked for the city park and pool from midnight until eight in the morning. While most people were sleeping, I was cleaning bathhouses and helping with pool maintenance. It wasn’t glamorous work. Nobody was applauding the guy scrubbing floors in the middle of the night.
But looking back, those hours taught me something important: the size of the job doesn’t determine its importance. The pride you take in doing it does.
Later on, when I worked for a tree service, I learned the same lesson again. After the cutting was done, I was told to rake and sweep the yard and the street. Nothing fancy about that job either. But I made sure that place was spotless when I finished. The yard looked better than when we arrived.
That’s when it really clicked for me.
Small tasks aren’t meaningless. They’re where character is created.
Anyone can step up when the moment is big and everyone is watching. But the people who take pride in the small jobs, the unnoticed ones, the ones nobody brags about, those are the people you can trust with bigger responsibilities.
Great responsibility isn’t handed out randomly. It’s earned in the smallest tasks.
Because the way someone handles a simple job tells you exactly how they’ll handle a complicated one.
The task may be small, but the character it reveals never is.
It all started around the age of six. Hand-eye coordination was better than your typical child. The ability to throw a ball like a teen as a child, we got him started in T-Ball. One practice, and he was hitting without the tee. Coaches we’re amazed at his ability to play baseball at such a high level and his baseball IQ was top notch. The season ended and the coach pitch league asked if he would like to play with them for the playoffs. A chance to get better and more reps he was all in.
A young child at 2nd base prevailed and quickly proved he could play with anyone. The next season he moved to 3rd base where he fell in love with the position. Local recball proved to be a bad place for us. The dads who coached the teams played all the kids from their neighborhood and the kids whose parents all hung out together. I honestly believe they picked my son solely because I was a police officer in that town.
After the season, a bit discouraged, we were approached by a parent who suggested travel baseball. We found a tryout for a team about an hour away. First of all, wow! This tryout was like being at a professional combine. For a ten year old I’m not truly sure he could understand the scope of it all. After a few weeks, we receive an email and he was offered a spot on the team. This is where we made a home for the next six years.
Organized is an understatement. We were first brought in and fitted for uniforms. Three hats, home, away, and alternative. Same goes for the uniform. We were also given a Sunday practice uniform and a Wednesday pitchers only uniform. The practices were scheduled and after a dynamic workout to warm the bodies up, players broke down to different stations.
Always moving and always learning. This is where my son really learned the sport of baseball. Fundamentals were re-taught, lessons and drills were repeated to the point I was saying them in my sleep! So much structure and discipline, it was definitely an honor to be a part of this baseball organization and family!
At the high school age, he made the tough decision to walk away from his travel team and commit his time to just high school baseball. As a parent, I guide and help, but ultimately I had to let him make his own decision whether it was correct or not.
Moving forward, my son quickly relearned in high school what recball was like. Not the coaches kids, but the teachers kids got preference. My son still played his best and proved his worth at his position.
We came from organized and structured and neat and orderly. We came from a place where everyone had to be prompt and in uniform. We ended up in chaos! Players arrived to practice in shorts, khaki pants, and sweat pants. Some had hats, some did not. No dynamic warm up. They would just jump to it. This is how injuries happen, and injuries did happen!
Game day. One coach is in uniform, the other coach is in sweat pants and a pullover, neither had matching caps on. What is this bizarre world we are in? State of the art facility, beautiful brand new stadium, and players and coaches are a mess. I use coaches lightly, there wasn’t much coaching. Players not always sure what to do when they got the ball, no correction, no helping, no direction, and no guidance. It didn’t take long for my son to realize this was a bad decision and this isn’t the type of baseball he is used to playing or wants to play.
Fundamentals?? High school aged athletes making t-ball game blunders and looking just as confused as the beginner.
Starting into the junior year, I was informed by my son that he no longer will play baseball. I can’t blame him! From dugout fights to on the field embarrassments, he simply had enough and couldn’t envision playing at such a low level of undisciplined and under coached baseball.
A sad day for me and the family, we loved watching him play. We loved seeing the happiness in his eyes making that impossible play at 3rd or the bang bang double play to end an inning. It was the sight of pure jubilation we all got to see when he hit that first career grand slam!! Boy did he get all of that ball! Talk about a lottery winner! I caught the whole thing on video! Thankful for the videos and the pictures, because as of now, memories and the remnants of gear around the house is all we have. On to the next adventure and chapter, and no matter what, always supportive and ready to see what makes him return to that smile that he found on the diamond!
Hard Lessons & Honest Thoughts 