How to work with joy

My husband and I were having brunch at a café that advertised that it served freshly juiced wheat grass. A shot of wheat grass is purported to have the nutritional equivalent of a kilo of vegetables. While I have serious doubts about the claim, I wanted a shortcut to better health. Drinking a shot of liquid the color of Slimer from "Ghostbusters" beats eating a kilo of vegetables any day.

The waiter apologized that the café had run out of wheat grass. He suggested that we order fruits served with kefir, supposedly a dairy rich in probiotics. We took a look at the menu and decided that we were starting our healthier lifestyle on our next meal.

"What do you think is better: The Eggs Benedict or the Eggs Florentine?' we asked the waiter.

He answered by rattling off the ingredients of each and ended with this statement, "Our customers prefer the Eggs Florentine because they want to experience a very English breakfast." I thought it was hilarious but he said it with such earnestness that I was prompted to pay more attention to him than the menu.

His nameplate said that his name was "Bambi" and he was tall, dark, good-looking and gay. Because of his spiel, we ordered the Eggs Florentine (and muesli with fruits to ease our conscience). Throughout our meal, he was cheerful and helpful but not in the obtrusive and overly friendly way that some food attendants can get in some American restaurant chains. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing and it showed in the way he behaved.

The huge impression that the waiter made on me had me wondering if it is very rare to find someone who loves his job and shows it. I am so used to the fake and mechanical cheerfulness of salespersons, security guards and food attendants whose smiles do not reach their eyes that I find it strange when I meet a person who is genuinely happy with his job. The only other person I could think of was a security guard who swayed and sang along to the Frank Sinatra songs being played at the coffee shop he watched over.

I am not aware of any study asking Filipinos if they are satisfied with their jobs. Maybe ten percent would be too high. At the rate things are going, it would even seem that the question would be superfluous. Most of us would probably be happy to just find work that puts food on the table. My laundrywoman tells me that the owner of the factory where she used to work closed shop without paying the wages of the employees and sent them away with this sarcastic remark: "Here's the fare if you want to file a labor case against me."

"Those who did file a case have not been paid, just like those who did not," my laundrywoman shrugged. She would rather restart her pork business with money she plans to borrow from a microfinance NGO than waste her time at the National Labor Relations Commission. I see no point in convincing her otherwise.

In "The Prophet", Khalil Gibran wrote, "Work is love made visible." The waiter I met and the security guard I saw seemed to embody this ethos. I hope that I meet more people like them and that I do not forget to show my appreciation when I do.

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