In the spring of 2020, I took a job as a garbage man. 

Well, not quite a garbage man (or waste collector). If anything, just a fraction of what a garbage man does. It was a short three week contract to distribute the new garbage, recycling and organic bins around Hope. 

I was craving a different experience, and as it was short term, this job was perfect. I haven’t done much outside of the cooking and beverage industry, so this would be interesting. 

Over the course of the few weeks, I noticed a few things, with one lesson in particular having significance to me.

It was a rainy day, and I was the runner. We worked in three person teams, a driver, a builder who put the wheels and axel on each bin, and the runner, who took the bin from the truck and placed it at the edge of the driveway and scanning the bin to the address of the property. If the scanner got wet, it was hard to scan, so it was frustrating when all I could think of was working quickly and getting out of the rain.

We drove a 26 foot straight/box truck, and in some of the small streets of Hope, it took up quite a bit of the road. 

At this particular moment, a car was behind us, with a woman who was visibly frustrated with our existence. I remember quickly coming to a position of defense. 

“Doesn’t she understand that there’s nothing we can do at the moment, that if we were to drive ahead so that she could get through, that we would just have to come back?”

“We have to go this speed, we have someone in the back of the truck with bins stacked 11 high, weighing about 300 lbs. If we go faster, it could be dangerous.”

“I’d like to see you drive a truck this size. I’d like to see you do this job and feel what it’s like to get in the way of people.”

“Shouldn’t you understand what we are going through?”

That last question broke the cycle. Should she understand what we are going through? Is it fair for me to expect that?

I thought about her perspective. She may not understand what we are going through, but I definitely can understand why she’s frustrated. How many times have I been in the car, trying to get somewhere, and something unexpected impedes my path? A train, a red light, or a big truck just trying to do its job. 

I understood why she was upset. Maybe she was late for an appointment. Maybe she was late for something insignificant. Whatever the reason, no matter how unimportant her schedule was to me, I understood her response. 

We got to a section of the road where it was wide enough for the car to pass, so I signalled for the truck driver to stop and signalled for the woman to pass us, making sure that there was no car coming the other direction. She drove past without acknowledging my wave. 

But I understood. 

At that moment, I was just some garbage man in her eyes, probably working for the city, putting these garbage bins around town. Garbage, organic and recycling bins that were too big in most people’s opinions. I was just a nuisance in her way. 

But I wasn’t frustrated with her anymore. Maybe I wished for more understanding, but at that moment, I didn’t expect that. 

But it did challenge me. 

It challenged me with a simple truth. That your perspective is ALWAYS only half of the story.

In a time when the opinions of others are much easier to come across, with comments sections, likes on instagram, text messages and blogs, it’s easy to get unhinged by the opinions of others. Even those who beautifully articulate their point, including the perspective of opposing views in their work are still blamed for being close-minded, naive, or offensive. 

But I realized that it depends on your perspective, and how much understanding you have in the other perspective. 

I think we could all use a bit more understanding. And I think that if we understood others more, the result wouldn’t be a homogenous opinion. It would just mean healthier communication and a broader and open perspective.