Frank

I interact with a wide variety of people every day. I see in them characteristics I aspire to embody, as well as qualities I pray will never be ascribed to me. These people occupy all levels of social totem poles, and I have quickly recognized that there is little to no correlation between “good” and “powerful” people. Moreover, I often recognize the opposite to be true…

Frank is a simple man. He cleans the bathrooms in the building where I work. His hands are worn and his eyes say that despite his smile he has seen many storms. I am just an analyst, and most individuals needn’t remember my name, since “new girl” is a sufficient identifier to which even I have learned to respond. But this is not the case with Frank. When we pass in the halls, he shakes my hand, and says my name. He never forgets. Sometimes, it is Frank who makes my day when I cannot make it on my own.

But is he powerful? Maybe that is more of a philosophical question, because it is hinged on ones perception of power. In the traditional sense, of course Frank is not a powerful man. He is not the CEO of the company, but the man who scrubs the toilet seats on which the CEO sits. But it is Frank, not the CEO who inspires me. In this regard, perhaps Frank among the powerful. He is the pebble that generates not ripples but waves. Frank inspires me, and because I have the resources and opportunity to succeed, when I succeed, Frank has made a mark. So often, the pebbles are overlooked because they have worn hands, stutters or limps. But pebbles cast, ripples make, and when receptive turn to tides.

I say all this, to endorse the sense of responsibility I feel, to myself, my family, my friends, and people like Frank. My task is not merely to succeed, but to be a good woman while doing it. Frank reminds me of this responsibility everyday when he shakes my hand and says my name...