Labor Day

The problem with doing nothing is not knowing when you're finished. ~ Benjamin Franklin

I celebrated Labor Day, yesterday, by not laboring though I confess I did attend to a minor repair. Work is engrained in my psyche; I have worked for over half a century. It is hard to imagine not working. Americans are known for their exceptional work ethic. We put more hours into our work weeks than most western countries. It is not wonder that we accomplish so much; we work at it.

I have spent considerable time in Iowa and have always appreciated the labor of love that farming demands. The Puritan work ethic is alive and well. Iowans and their mid-western neighbors are known for their hard work so I was surprised when I observed the teenage girl in the following ditty. On this day you return to your labors I tought you might enjoy it.

To re-interpret Ben, she wasn’t doing nothing, but then again she wasn’t hurrying to finish.


The Adventures of a Reluctant Busser

Seven ladies sat at brunch,
          ready to make their leave.
Seve quarters, ‘twas my hunch,
          appeared from seven sleeves.

The waitress worked dutifully hard
          E’en knowing her tip would be small;
But the busser served with glum disregard
          as though she was paid not at all.

She sauntered about, a cyclone not she
          though her I-State shirt read so.
Her pants and laces flopped to her knee,
          and get up and gone was her go.

First trip, two plates; three cups on the second,
three glasses and syrups through four.
Trip five, two glasses, less on six I reckon,
one item per hand not more.

One final excursion, two napkins, a plate,
          a record setting trip I feared.
To the kitchen she went not too soon or too late;
          the table she finally cleared.

Seven trips it took to bus the table,
          one for each lady it seemed.
Hurrying not though apparently able,
          she was the dishwasher, too, I deemed.


Observations in an Iowa Café


"The Adventures of a Reluctant Busser"
Copyright © Michael J. McCabe, 2004
All rights reserved.