The day after I graduated college in 2013, I became a laborer in Manhattan. For those of you who don’t know, a laborer is basically the “renaissance man” of construction. From knocking down buildings to sweeping floors, I did it all; I learned more in two years on that job than in four full years of college. I also got to meet some of the most incredible, hard-working people I’ve ever met. Without a doubt, that experience changed the way I see the world and the people in it.
Manual labor is hard. I mean, really hard. You wake up at 5 a.m., head to the job site, break your back for 8 hours (sometimes literally), and go home to lick your wounds. Rinse and repeat, day after day, week after week. I did it for two years and I already started to feel the weight of it on my soul - my body and mind slowly getting beaten down to a pulp. There are many parts to the job that are enjoyable, but it’s most certainly a marathon, not a sprint. It’s also completely thankless. Most people have no idea of the amount of effort and ingenuity that goes into every little detail of the man-made world around us.
It was during this time that I met a man who showed me the meaning of discipline, integrity and humility. His name was Napoleon, and he was from Ecuador. Napoleon showed up to the job site every day with a huge smile on his face and got to work. He did everything with intention, and rarely made mistakes. He took the time to teach me the ins and outs of the job, and he laughed. I’ll never forget his hearty, Santa Clause laugh. He worked himself to the bone, but he always made sure to have some fun while doing it. That’s the definition of a silly goose time. I learned more from Napoleon (and the other insane characters at that job, i.e. Eugene, Shorty, Val - to name a few) than any well-decorated professor or successful businessman.
The truth is, I grew up in a suburban, middle class neighborhood. Things were clean, tidy - think “Keeping Up With The Jones’s”. When there were problems with the house, other people were hired to fix it - and I rarely saw their faces. It was all a shiny veneer, built off the backs of hard working men and women who existed in the shadows. It wasn’t until I got a chance to pierce the veil and see the world behind the curtain that I was able understand and appreciate everything that was afforded me.
I know a lot of people who have no idea about any of this. They wake up in their clean, luxury apartment buildings, go to work for their multi-billion dollar corporations in their cushy offices, spend exorbitant amount of money on needless shit, and use their evenings to complain about it all. They have no idea. They don’t know the stories of the men and women who built the luxury apartment, who built the cushy office, who built the stores where they buy their needless shit. They don’t know Napoleon. They don’t know the pain, the struggle, the perseverance. They don’t know what it’s like for a man to have to save pennies after working a double overtime so maybe, maybe he can afford to send his kid to college. That’s what built this country. That’s what continues to keep this country moving. The blood, sweat and tears of incredible people - of all races, nationalities, ethnicities and backgrounds.
These days, I work construction on weekends with my uncle and cousins. We drive around Long Island helping people with the endless problems they face as homeowners. I do it for the mentorship (I think my uncle is a sage) and the extra cash, but I also do it to remind myself on a weekly basis of how lucky I am. I get to sit at home all week and work a remote job from the comfort of my home. I have the mental capacity to write on a daily basis because I’m not completely drained from my work day. That’s a gift that not many people have. To honor that, I get out there on weekends and break shit, build shit and help people. It keeps me grounded, and it’s just so much fun. It helps me feel alive - better yet, it helps me stay in tune with my purpose.
Today is the day to celebrate the struggle of the people that made your life possible. Take a second to look up from your screen - look at the walls, the floorboards, the lights, the windows. Someone built all of those things. Someone who most likely worked hard, who knew what struggle tasted like, who understood the real meaning of perseverance. Take a moment today to breathe that in and appreciate what you have, and appreciate humanity. Look at the things we’ve done! We hear too often about how horrible we are and that skews our view on the world and others. It’s never as bad at it seems.
Happy Labor Day.
P.S. Napoleon, if you ever read this, I just want to say thank you.