I left my hotel room this morning to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, and saw part of a man standing in the hallway. His feet were on a ladder. The rest of him was somewhere in the ceiling.
I introduced myself, and asked what he was doing. Along with satisfying my natural curiosity, it seemed a good way to delay my appointment with gravity, which I was in no hurry to keep. His name is Corey MundleâŠ.We quickly got to talking.
âWell, Mike, hereâs the problem,â he said. âMy pipe has a crack in it, and now my hot water is leaking into my laundry room. Iâve got to turn off my water, replace my old pipe, and get my new one installed before my customers notice thereâs a problem.â
I asked if he needed a hand, and he told me the job wasnât dirty enough. We laughed, and Corey asked if he could have a quick photo. I said sure, assuming heâd return the favor. He asked why I wanted a photo of him, and I said it was because I liked his choice of pronouns.
âI like the way you talk about your work,â I said. âItâs not âtheâ hot water, itâs âMYâ hot water. Itâs not âtheâ laundry room, itâs âMYâ laundry room. Itâs not âaâ new pipe, itâs âMYâ new pipe. Most people donât talk like that about their work. Most people donât own it.â
Corey shrugged and said, âThis is not âaâ job; this is âMYâ job. Iâm glad to have it, and I take pride in everything I do.â
He didnât know it, but Coreyâs words made my job a little easier that day. Because three hours later, when I was trying to work up the courage to leap out of a perfectly good airplane, I wasnât thinking about pulling the ripcord on the parachuteâI was thinking about pulling MY ripcord. On MY parachute.