Keith's Song

The mop dipped into the water with a slurshing sound, with one hand Keith put the mop into the squeegee, and pressed the lever to squeeze out the excess water.

I had tried mopping with one hand myself, just to see if Keith's request to be moved into janitorial from telemarketing was reasonable.

No matter which way I tried, I bopped myself in the head with the mop handle, and was unable to pick up any dirt or mud from the floor.

I could not see how anyone could efficiently mop a floor with one arm.

Keith dropped the mop onto the tile with a splat. I almost was holding my breath, just waiting.

Keith was insistent that he could mop a floor with one arm, better than any of my other janitors with two. The time had come for the truth. I knew he could not do it. I hated to see him struggle.

Laying the top of the mop handle on his shoulder, and grabbing the mop handle on the top with his hand, Keith applied pressure down, while swinging the mop back and forth. He was doing it!

Why didn't I figure that out? I had tried every conceivable way to mop the floor with one hand, but was unable to do it. Keith proved me wrong, he was able to mop a floor better and faster than any of my two armed janitors.

Keith continued to amaze me. He was a smoker, and stepping outside for a break, he pulled out his pack, and slipped a cigarette into his mouth.

"You use a bic, right?" I asked. "No, book matches." As he pulled them from his pocket.

"Now how the heck are you going to light a match with one hand?" I was stumped.

Keith just smiled, opened the book of matches, folded one of the matches all the way to the back of the book with out tearing it out, closed the book, and then using his forefinger and thumb, he scooted the match along the sandpaper, and it lit!

With the match still attached to the book, he lit his cigarette, and shook the match out.

This proved to be a pretty good party trick. I would ask people at parties if they could light a book match with one hand, no one ever could figure it out.

I asked Keith how he could figure all this out, and he told me he just did. No one told him how, he just figured it out.

I contemplated this, and I began to see that when you are stuck looking at a problem or situation from only one view- point, you are quite limited to the possible solutions that are available.

I also realized how hard it is to look at a situation from another view point. I had really tried to see how Keith was going to mop those floors with one hand. I believed that I was looking through Keith's eyes, but I was not.

Solutions that were very simple, were not available to me because I was not able to completely look at a situation through the eyes of another person. This was frightening, because I had always believed myself to be open minded.

I learned that Keith was a recovering alcoholic. I supported him to stay dry, and to work with me to help build our business. I believed that Keith had a lot of potential.

During lunch one day, I asked Keith if he had ever considered having his bad arm removed, and replacing it with a prosthesis, (a man made usable arm).

Keith made an obvious wince, communicating that this was a very uncomfortable subject. I retreated quickly into silence, until Keith commented, "Chopping off my arm scares the ** out of me."

Blood slammed into my ears, like the collapse of a great dam, a chill went down my spine. "Chopping off my arm". Those words made the reality of what I said lightly, bulldoze into my consciousness.

I looked at Keith. How could I not see the obvious pain it must take to even think about having your own limb, even a paralyzed one, removed.

"I'm sorry" The words slowly slipped through my lips.

"I went through some psychological counseling once, because the state had considered paying for the operation. It's just a useless arm, but even the counseling could not bring me to the point where I was ready to have it removed."

Keith then looked at me pausing, as if he were trying to say something, but the sound was not coming out of his throat.

Keith sighed, then tried again, "Also, the state said that they would not invest $60,000.00 in an operation and new arm, unless I had a recommendation that I was moving up with a company. I could not have just a job, it has to be a career of some type."

"Who is going to give an alcoholic with a bum arm a career?"

Keith looked at me, and I looked into his eyes. I saw something, in those eyes. I saw determination, I saw a strong desire to improve his station in life. I saw a man that wanted to earn the respect of his peers, despite his physical handicap.

I saw a man, that wanted to put his past aside, and overcome his handicap of alcoholism. Perhaps the toughest demon of all to fight.

Keith had been dry for over a year. He attended AA meetings, and even before he had come to work for me, had already decided that somehow he was going to beat his demons. All he wanted was a chance.

But as he went from business to business, asking for a chance at work, any work, he was turned down over and over. Prospective employers looked at Keith's resume and his history was not that great. That glanced at his arm and decided he would not be worth their money.

I guess if I had looked at his resume, I would not have hired him either. But when he had first come through my door, I saw a very determined man with a very positive attitude.

I did not look at his resume. I did not even notice his bum arm. I did see a rare attitude, one that is hard to find in employees or employers, and that is what I hired Keith for.

"Keith, you have a career!" I blurted. "Sure we clean toilets, but we are professional. We are the best darned toilet cleaners in this town! And if we keep working at it, soon we will have a very large business to run, because I know we can do a better job than anyone!"

Keith starred at me, realizing what I was saying.

"Keith, you tell the state, that I will stand behind you, and you have a career with me. If you help me build this company, you will move up to management!"

Over the next year, Keith went through counseling, and grueling inspections from doctors hired by the state to determine if Keith could handle the psychological challenge of losing a limb. But Keith kept plugging.

And then, the good word came. The state was going to fit him with a prosthesis.

Keith showed no excitement to this news. He affirmed that this was what he wanted, but he knew that before he was to leave his dark forest, he had a treacherous part of the walk left. Removal of the arm.

This was a walk Keith had to do alone. No matter how much encouragement I would give him, it was only Keith that was having the amputation.

I could see Keith walking toward the darkest part of his forest. And when I looked in his eyes, I could see that he was near breakdown.

At times I even noticed a physical collapse, as his body slumped over with a weight that seemed to crush the very source of life from his body.

Sweat would appear on his forehead, and he would wipe it away. The sweat could only have been from mental anguish.

But Keith kept walking. He marched dead into the pit of the dark forest, and when the light came, Keith was recovering in his hospitable bed, minus one arm, but with something added.

A smile as wide as a satellite dish, and a beacon of light glowing from his face and eyes.

You can read all the chapters of "Tims Home Town Stories" by going to http://timshometownstories.com">. Other stories written by Tim are at http://salessuccessmagazine.com These stories are copyrighted by Timothy L. Drobnick Sr. 1995,1996,1997,1998,1999,2000. Any person using this article must publish it without modification and include authors bio and links.

About the Author

Timothy L Drobnick Sr has helped many people make money on the internet. Websites to visit for income opportunity are yobisc.com, http://virusfreespamfree.com, and http://myshoppingplace.net.

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