Just a working man

Summers in Orland Park meant sleeping with the windows open to hopefully let the breeze startle the curtains into gently bumping each other. At 6:30 a.m., a digital alarm clock buzzes twice only to be turned off by a calloused hand. Stan Szpytek sits up in bed as his wife Colleen starts to stir and awaken beside him.

He gets out of bed, walks into the kitchen and begins to make breakfast for himself and Colleen using the dishes he set out the night before.

Today would be an ordinary day if it were not for the fact that it was the final day of Stan’s career with Sears. As he put on his watch and slid his wallet into the back pocket of his work pants, he thought for a moment about his time at Sears. He’d come a long way from being 16 replacing seat covers and pumping gas in cars in 1956 to now, selling washing machines at 64 in 2005.

His glasses found their comfortable spots behind his ears and in the grooves on the bridge of his nose. Yesterday marked 48 years at Sears which meant that today was 48 years and one day, a finish line that Stan was proud to have reached and one that he boasted for years to come.

He slicked his hair back with the small black comb that accompanied him wherever he went, kissed his wife goodbye and got in his car to drive to work. The route he drove was a familiar one, as he had been working at the same store since he helped open it at the Orland Park Mall in 1976.

It takes a certain kind of someone to work for the same company for 48 years and one day, the kind of person who doesn’t need a lot to be happy. The defined laugh lines in his face meant that he filled his life with people instead of possessions. Raising five kids on $30,000 per year means he believed that it’s not what you have, but who.

It was an ordinary day of working until lunch. Stan’s coworkers threw him a small party in the breakroom with cake for the 30 minutes he was given to eat. Thirty minutes of recognition for 48 years and one day, but to Stan, that’s all he wanted. It wasn’t about the recognition or even the cake, but about his friends.

Stan’s real retirement party was planned for the following Tuesday where his coworkers would get another chance to tell him and his entire family just what he meant to them.

The rest of the day was exceptionally ordinary with the only thing of note being the drive home. It’s hard to express the feeling of knowing that you’ll never have to go to work again, especially when you’ve been working there your entire life, but Stan was feeling it. 

His day ended the same way that it started, quiet and gentle. There was nothing he owned that understood hard work like the soles of his shoes.

We are seldom more thankful than at the moment that our heads first touch the pillow in bed after a good day’s work. Stan was able to breathe a sigh of relief and know that his work was done.