A certain man had a full-time job as a custodian in a museum. Every day the museum was open, he could be seen before and after public hours mopping, dusting, or polishing. Typically, he made himself scarce while visitors toured the building, but once in a while he made an appearance to take care of something that couldn’t wait. Even then, he went about largely unnoticed—people glancing his way and then elsewhere at something more worthy of their attention.
A meeting for employees that morning had interrupted the custodian’s cleaning of the lobby windows; one still needed his attention. While visitors milled about, he grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and a cloth from the custodial closet. The window in question sat back largely hidden by the staircase that led to the second-floor exhibits—but he could tell it wasn’t clean. The custodian went about rectifying that.
“It already looks clean,” he overheard someone say. “And you can’t even see out that window with the stairs in the way.” He ignored the comment and kept working.
A few moments later, a young voice asked, “Why are you cleaning that?”
The custodian turned and saw a child of perhaps seven years old looking at him. He smiled. “Because it wasn’t clean. I didn’t have time to clean it earlier this morning.”
“My uncle said no one can see out that window.”
“Windows aren’t just for seeing out of. If I let this one get dirty, then the light has a harder time coming in, and the place won’t be quite as cheery. Maybe others wouldn’t be able to tell … but I would.”
Whistling, he went on to his next task: cleaning the furnace room.
He left the door open as he worked. More whistling as he swept and mopped. A manager happened to walk past and stuck her head in with a greeting. Then a puzzled expression came over her face. “Why are you in here cleaning? No one ever comes in here. I doubt it gets that dirty.”
“Well, it needs to be clean if we happen to need a repair or when a furnace needs replacing,” the custodian answered with a matter-of-fact tone. “Can’t have any accidents, you know.” The manager nodded and left him to his labor.
As the crowds dispersed near closing time, the custodian emerged from the back rooms and offices. On his knees, he dusted and polished the wooden baseboards, scrubbing in the grooves and the corners to make sure it all shone. If you didn’t stay on top of it, the dust would build up and make the place look shoddy. He worked around the bases of the displays and pedestals as well.
Someone walked by, paused to squint at what he was doing, and moved on.
To the custodian’s surprise, the next month he was awarded the title of employee of the month at a meeting. “For his care, devotion, and attention to detail in making the museum a wonderful, immaculate destination,” the museum director read from the certificate. With a shake of the hand, the director added, “Thank you. This place would not be what it is without you.”
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