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Bringing Yourself to Work

Pierre plays the xylophone. Not a newfangled modern xylophone, a big, wooden behemoth of a xylophone, deep down in the orchestra pit at The Lion King show in Las Vegas, Nevada.

I know this because I met him. I was invited to meet him by the usher who sat us in row five on the isle. (My wife has a gift for finding good deals, what can I say?) Actually, he didn’t invite me to meet Pierre, he invited my children. “Don’t forget to have the kids come down at intermission and meet Pierre.” he told us, as if no further explanation was necessary.

As soon as he walked off to help another patron my wife and I looked at each other. “Who’s Pierre?” … Shrugs.

By the time intermission came around I’d forgotten all about it, until I looked down toward the orchestra pit and saw two kids looking quizzically down in. The usher was monitoring from a few feet away. As we approached the stage he looked out into the audience and the dozen or so other children following my kids lead and working their way down toward the stage to see what was so interestingly concealed down below. I heard him whisper down into the pit, “Here they all come.”

There, down in the orchestra pit, standing before a massive xylophone was Pierre. The children lined up to look down at him and gawk. Then the questions started.

“Do you play all these instruments?” one child asked.

“No” he smiled, as if these were the questions he cherished most, “There are twenty two musicians who play down below the stage for the whole show.”

“Do you make all the music or is it recorded too?” asked another.

“We make all the music you hear.” He said in a soft, French accent.

And there, at the railing of the orchestra pit, these children of the twenty first century, who’ve never known life without an iPod and a CD player, understood something much more magical about the show they had been witnessing. And Pierre knew it too.

Watching Pierre interact with the kids while all the other orchestra members were out enjoying their one-and-only break got me thinking. I thought to myself, “Nobody told him to do this. It isn’t in his job description. It isn’t in his protocols. It isn’t in his employee manual. He simply chooses to do this each show.” And that makes Pierre’s contribution so magical.

Pierre could have chosen to do what everybody else in the orchestra does at intermission. He could have gone back stage and enjoyed a break. Following the crowed is always safe. When he first got the idea to interact with the children he could have talked himself out of it. There were plenty of reasons to not stay around and talk with the kids.

• Nobody else is doing it.
• I’m not getting paid for it.
• I might get in trouble.
• Management doesn’t support this kind of thing.
• I could get written up for trying to be one of the performers.
• I might not get any recognition.
• It isn’t allowed.
• The supervisor who doesn’t like me will use this against me.

And on and on. But Pierre decided to bring himself to work and make his own unique contribution. He decided to be creative about his role in the show. With all the limitations of being hidden away in the orchestra pit, Pierre decided to find a way to break through that barrier and make a real connection with his audience. And all the children are richer for their interaction with him.

But here’s the thing that’s really worth wrapping your brain around. This is the point worth laying awake contemplating before you go to sleep tonight.

Pierre’s experience is far richer as well.

What do you think?

More stuff to think about:

Passion Counts

Five Rules For One Shift

6 Reasons Why You Should Be A Better EMT

EMT Basic Skills Are Not Basic

The EMT Code of Ethics