Her name is Evette.  We’ve only exchanged brief pleasantries. 90% of the people I work with have never laid eyes on her.  She’s kind of a magical ninja who makes our environment pleasant.  Evette is our office cleaning professional.

We’ve gone through a pretty wide variety of cleaning services with a rapid turnover rate just in the past couple of years. There was the team who vacuumed to say that they had done it but didn’t bother to report that the belts were broken so the vacuum was not actually picking anything up.  And there was a crew who cruised through, emptied trash, spent most of the time chatting, and left things less than sparkling. You get the idea.

I noticed beneficial changes before I actually met Evette. Things were just cleaner and shinier. Even our desktops were dusted. No one was coming in early while meetings were still in progress and being disruptive, which was the case with one of the previous crews.  Eventually I met her because some days I stay a bit later than most, and she comes in after hours.  We exchanged some basic greetings as she came by to get my recycling and trash on her first of multiple loops around the building. She has a nice smile.

 And then there was the tissue box.

When I can manage to remember, I’ll bring in a box of tissues from home to have at my desk. A while back I had run out and kept forgetting to bring in more – just not the priority in my busy brain when gathering my things before hustling out the door.  One morning a tissue box was on my desk when I came in as if someone was reading my mind.  A couple of days later, not only was the box still there, but the first tissue had been neatly folded.  It reminded me of the room stewards on a cruise I took with my family who would shape and fold fresh towels into creative things like ducks and bears to greet us when we came in. 

You’d think that a folded tissue from a “commercial” tissue box would be no big thing.  Granted, it is a very small detail.  But to me it is those little things that mean the most.  The next time our paths crossed, I made a point to find her in the back hall, ask her name, and thank her for the work she is doing and tell her that I noticed the tissue detail and really appreciated it.  I may have embarrassed her a bit, but I think she appreciated the acknowledgement.

As I drove home, I thought about Evette (and I have no idea if I’m spelling her name correctly).  My guess is that she has professional experience in the hospitality industry – perhaps cleaning and maintenance with hotels or even cruise ships.  As typical of me, I started to make up a background story about her. Perhaps she has young kids at home so has adjusted her schedule to work evenings so she can be home during the day with them. Or maybe she has picked up office cleaning as a side hustle for a bit of extra income.For a pro like her, quite honestly our office space has to be a pretty easy gig.  There’s not a lot of us and we aren’t an especially messy crew. It is generally nice and quiet there while she’s working, and she is likely in and out of there in a fairly short amount of time – because she’s clearly very efficient.

What I admire the most is it is obvious that she takes pride in her work. She is not grumpy or begrudgingly going about her duties.  No matter what her reasoning, she is there to do a good job and she does — with an eye for detail.  I saw her again this evening, and noticed that she hustles – there’s no dragging of her feet.  She was multi-tasking like every successful woman, talking on her wireless ear buds while she swiftly did her first round of trash emptying.  When she saw me heading out, she paused her conversation to wish me a pleasant evening. She exudes a comfort and confidence in her job. If this is a side hustle, I wondered what else she does.  Perhaps she’s a business owner or a teacher or – per my other theory, an “at-home” mom.  

As a young girl of the 70’s and 80’s, I was emersed in a world that encouraged women to become corporate business leaders.  It became ingrained in us girls that we should strive to climb the corporate ladder, that we could be “as successful as any man”.  There was a deluge of TV shows and movies like Mary Tyler Moore, Murphy Brown, Working Girl, 9 to 5… each made the business world look glamorous, the idea of putting on a suit and nylons and sitting in meetings and surprising people (especially men) with our intelligence was the primary goal. I still remember the glee and pride that Melanie Griffith’s character had when she realized her office was the one with a big desk, a door, and a big window with the view of the city.  What more could a woman want? Wasn’t that what we all yearned for?

Flash forward to my adult life and I ventured as expected into the corporate world. It never really dawned on me to be an entrepreneur or learn a trade, I didn’t think I wanted to be a teacher and I knew darn well that I was not cut out for the medical field.  I went through the years of wearing suits, dresses, nylons and pumps – because that’s what we did in offices.  I gained new skills, I advanced from my first administrative positions to middle-management with people reporting to me.  I moved around to several companies and locations, learning more at every stop.  Could I have pushed harder to get to high-level leadership?  Sure.  Could I have demanded higher pay to come closer to what men doing the same job were making (trust me, some things don’t change)?  Yup.  Could I have worked even harder than the 50-60 hour weeks I put in during my 30’s to prove myself, given up on my own side gigs to devote myself to being at the tippy-top of that ladder?  I suppose. 

But somewhere along the way, I came to the important (to me) realization that enjoying what I was doing, and who I was doing it with, was what I valued most.  As much as I craved and needed respect (as we all should and all deserve), as much as I wanted people to be proud of me or impressed with my skills, and as much as I, like any working woman, have from time to time had to break through some stereotypes and prove I had a brain in a room full of men, I decided I didn’t need to ever reach the level of CEO or President.  I am infinitely glad that other women have been driven to rise to those ranks – by far my best bosses have been brilliant women.  But for me, throughout my career, my goals have been to be happy, to do my best always, and provide mentorship to help others succeed as well.  Well, that, and be able to pay my bills. Gotta be realistic.

There were a few times that I reached a position, role, or responsibility that wasn’t enjoyable.  But it wasn’t because of the title.  It was because of either what I was doing, or for whom I was doing it.  And it pushed me to make changes.  Throughout my journeys I have met some really interesting people, and worked with truly smart and talented individuals (and some not so much).  And oh, my, have I laughed (and sometimes cried).

I’m now in what I refer to as my encore career.  That’s a term I learned back when I was doing some soul-searching during a time of transition, and loosely translated it means the last big gig before retirement. Luckily, I love my job.  And when I look back at all the roles and places that the me in my 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and beyond has been, I wouldn’t change a thing.  Will my someday professional bio list my massive awards and corporate accomplishments or businesses I’ve owned or run?  Nope.  And I’m ok with that.  What my track record will say is that I’ve embraced every job I’ve had, I’ve taken pride in my work, I’ve had fun – and I have made some positive impressions along the way.

If old me now could talk to young me then, I’d advise me that I didn’t really need to emulate those Hollywood-glamorized corporate women.  That any job or role holds value, and the attitude and pride you have in that role is what catches the attention of others. Just like Evette.  AND, just like Evette, I’ve learned there’s another secret to making a difference in people’s lives both professionally or personally:  little details matter.  You never know if that one tiny extra thing you do, or say, can make someone else’s day or life a little bit brighter.

Sometimes all it takes is a sharply folded new box of tissues.