On poetry and doing masterful work in the midst of busyness

“As I walked, I passed a dry cleaner�s shop. At its front, immediately behind a large plate glass window, was a man ironing a shirt. I stopped and watched…He ironed, and I watched. And watched. He ironed one shirt, then a second. There was a defined progression for each shirt. First, he sprayed the shirt lightly with water to dampen it. Then, as he ironed each successive portion of the shirt he sprayed on a light dose of starch to make the fabric stiffer. He proceeded to iron the collar, then carefully laid out each sleeve and ironed them, one at a time. Then he starched and ironed one half of the shirt, placed flat on his white-cotton clad ironing table. When he was done, he lightly touched the iron to the middle of the collar at the back of the neck � just a small crease so it would fold properly. He hung the shirt on a hanger, and proceeded to the next.

I, an amateur, iron quickly. He, a professional, did not. He took care, making certain that each sweep of the iron made a flat expanse of brilliant white fabric.

As I watched him, I realized I was receiving instruction in how to iron properly. The man in the window was of early middle age, seemingly of Central American background. He was totally focused on his work. (Only when I left, and bowed my head slightly in dual acknowledgement of his excellence and my gratefulness at being allowed to watch him, did he indicate by a small smile and a brief nod of his head that he had been aware of my presence.)

So that was it, my �spot of time,� my peak experience. A moment � 15 minutes, actually � of observing menial work in the modern city. Only the work was not menial, even though its status, and no doubt the ironer�s pay, were low. The man I watched took great care with what he did, and seemed in a quiet and unobtrusive way to be proud that he ironed shirts well. Would a customer have noticed if he ironed more quickly, and the shirt were not as perfect as he strove to make it? I doubt it. But the man who ironed worked to a different standard. If his labor was worth doing, it was worth doing well.