7#OVNTTTTTT(TTTT T TTTxTUL UlU*UTUUUUU8UUUUUUWork ethic: right here, right now htk/dektk by Tracy Jones Everyone talks about it, but who can explain what it is? Although "work ethic," like "family values," is one of those phrases that gets bandied about by politicians and pundits, few of us stop to think about how the concept fits into our daily lives. Is our enthusiasm for rolling up our sleeves and getting the job done the thing that's made this country great, or is shameful laziness sending America to hell in a handbasket full of yen and marks? Is work central to our existence, or is it a place where we're paid to watch the clock till closing time? To put the idea of a work ethic into less abstract terms, Metro Pulse talked with some East Tennesseans about how their jobs mesh with the rest of their lives. Their backgrounds vary, as do their daily routines, but together they form a mosaic of the diversity of attitudes toward work and its place in the lives of the people who toil in today's workplace. Clyde "Tiger" Tidwell, skilled worker It's an American tradition that's dyinglifetime employment with a large and thriving company, one that's good to its workers and a paternal presence in the community. A man could sign on young and be assured that as long as he did his job and did it well, the company would keep him until he was ready to sit down to a farewell dinner and collect his gold watch. Clyde "Tiger" Tidwell has been with the Aluminum Company of America for 54 of his 75 years. But he's not ready to retire yet. "I can't answer that," he says when asked why he still heads for his 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift as a mechanical craft specialist at the plant in Alcoa. "I don't really know. I've always enjoyed my work and my job, and it's a sort of security. You see, I grew up under the Depression, and it was so hard for my father to make ends meet back then that people my age, we sort of suffered. I guess I was branded then, wanting to work." He tells people he'll work until they carry him out of the plant, an ironic statement considering that he's had to be transported out on a stretcher once already. "I had a heart valve go bad, and I had to be taken out of the plant he says. I got over that, and I'm back with no restrictions and making it fine." Except for a stint as a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne during World War II, Tidwell has worked solely for ALCOA. He might have considered a career in the service, he says, except that his wife wouldn't move to Germany. "It's never entered my mind to change since, he says. ALCOA's been really good to me, and I've enjoyed it all. The benefits are great, and they were awfully good to me when I had my heart problem." If Tidwell ever thinks of slowing down, he has his twin brother's example to warn him off. "He retired when we were 66. He seems to have a lot of problems getting around, while I'm still in the teenage group. In my thoughts, anyway." Tidwell's wife doesn't seem to mind that he works so hard, or that he takes any available overtime shift he can pick up, especially since the couple always sets aside plenty of time to vacation together. They have a place in Florida, and they've traveled to Alaska, Australia, New Zealand and Europe. "We haven't been sitting around when we vacation," he says. "We really get out and go." Tidwell still does his own mowing and gardening, and his wife helps him out on the farm they own. "We just work all the time, and always have. We have a house on the lake, and we have to maintain that, too. We've got a good place to fish, but we never do any fishing." Anna Arapakos, teacher It's the time-honored question of all young scholars, one the protgs of Socrates must have posed to him: "Will this be on the test?" Anna Arapakos whips her head around and raises one eyebrow at the offending student. It's a look that plainly says get real. Grinning, the student buries his head in his textbook as Arapakos continues her review of Russian vocabulary. Kids in her Farragut High School classes know they are welcome to ask her anything without fear of scorn or censure. Anything, that is, except whether something will be on the test. Having never considered teaching as a career during her years in college and graduate school, Arapakos, 32, has found the work she was meant to do, work that calls upon, as she puts it, "my heart, my soul, and my mind." In her sixth year as an English and Russian teacher at Farragut, Arapakos strives to reach every single student in her classroom. The trick to getting students to care, she says, is to develop a trusting relationship with them. "You have to ask questions where there are no right and wrong answers. They have to learn that you really want to know what they think." She doesn't mind that most of her students don't know how hard she works, usually putting in three to five extra hours a day grading and preparing for classes. Although she loves her job, it's this kind of workload that makes her dread the start of the school year. "When you're in this, you're on a ship. And you just hate going out to sea, even if you like the voyage when you're on it." Arapakos wanted to be a doctor, not a teacher. As a freshman at UT, she realized that wasn't her field after all. By chance, or fate, she took a class in Russian culture and civilization. "I was so taken by every aspect of Russian culture, and I've been with it ever since," she says. She originally wanted to work for the government, and took a master's degree in Slavic studies with that goal in mind. With changing U.S.-Russian relations, it became clear there weren't many government jobs available. "I was very adamant that I wanted to do something positive with Russian, so I started out from there, and I kind of covered my bases and got certified in English as well." Her experience with Russian culture gives her insight into the differences between their work ethic and ours. Russians, she says, aren't known for having a good attitude at the workplace because they can't see that their work matters. "I believe that's happening to a great degree in American society. You have to feel a level of personal commitment. Otherwise, there's no incentive to do a good job. And you can't really bribe people to do that. It has to be an intrinsic thing." She's lucky, she says, that her job offers her those personal rewards. "That's my classroom, those are my kids, and I can already see how my relationship with them affects how they learn." Stephen Friedlander, practicing psychologist As a clinical psychologist who regularly counsels patients struggling with problems at work, Steve Friedlander, 51, is following a bit of his own advice and making positive changes to his practice. He's made a real effort to rid himself of some of the paperwork hassles that take time away from his patients. He's hard at work on follow-ups to his first book, Confronting the Challenges of Psychoanalysis, published in August, and is finishing his term as president of the International Federation for Psychoanalytic Education. An organizational psychologist before he began clinical practice, he is also reviving that part of his work, turning his attention to the workplace and the psychological well-being of its employees. Friedlander finds truth in Sigmund Freud's idea that there are two fundamental ingredients for human fulfillment: love and work. "There is a necessity to work for the rewards that come from doing a job well," Friedlander says. In work, he says, "You are expending energy for a goal." Although reaching that goal can be a powerful motivator in and of itself, Friedlander says there's an equally important dimension to workputting yourself in contact with the rest of society. "You are part of the world of other people," he says. This is just as true of the self-employed artist or homemaker as it is of the stereotypical corporate go-getter, since each person is engaged in activity that will affect society as a whole. For Friedlander, this is where the ethic in work ethic comes in. "An ethic means you are somehow relating to other people," he says. He thinks it's unfortunate that American culture has confused the idea of work ethic with monetary success. "This is a class society. The idea that hard work equals success which equals money is an especially American one, one that has little to do with the real pay-offs of hard work. "If you meet your responsibilities, you get your just rewards," he says, "but that doesn't mean money." He thinks that because of America's class-oriented hierarchy, some jobs are thought of as demeaning or inferior, when in fact no work is inferior if it is done well. As he reacquaints himself with studying patterns of behavior in the workplace, Friedlander has noticed that men's and women's work ethics often differ, especially when the women have children. "I think women who are good mothers have a kind of work ethic that is unrelated to capitalism, he says. I think they have a superior work ethic, because they understand that work has consequences for people." If there is any popular notion about work that Friedlander could dispel, it's the idea that a workaholic is someone who spends a lot of energy on the job. A workaholic is instead someone who shuts out the rest of the world to work only for personal gain. Striving to do your best for yourself and the world around you is something very different, Friedlander says. "Working very hard on an important project is not a sickness." Kelly Robinson, waitress Like a lot of liberal arts majors, Kelly Robinson wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do with her degree. She wasn't any clearer on the subject when the birth of her daughter four years ago stalled her graduation from college altogether. Now working as a waitress at O'Charley's, Robinson ponders the winding path that took her to her current job. As a theater major at UT, Robinson paid her way through school by dropping out about every other semester to tour with a drama company based in Charlotte. She had finished the requirements for a linguistics minor and taken some classes toward a speech and pathology major when she found out she was pregnant. Immediately, she knew she'd be putting her theater career on indefinite hold. "I wasn't going to park my kid all over the country doing that," she says. Since her daughter Madeline's birth, Robinson says, she's been obsessed with the idea of going back to school, with no better idea at 28 of what she wants out of it than she has ever had. "Only in the past couple of months have I started thinking, Do I really want to finish school? The main reason I want to anymore is for the principle of it. If that's all I want it for, then I can do that anytime. I can do that when I'm 45 and Madeline is grown up. It opens up a whole new area of questions that I don't know how to deal with yet." Instead of putting decisions about her livelihood on hold, Robinson has begun looking at the marketable skills she already has. She provides research assistance for students at UT (no, she doesn't write their papers). She recently catered a wedding, which she calls her dream job for this stage in her life, mostly because it allows her to have some control of her own time. She keeps her obligations to Madeline paramount, which is why she's been a waitress these past four yearsshe can make in four hours the kind of money she would make in eight elsewhere. The only thing that bothers her about her job is that sometimes she feels like a bad worker because she can't pick up shifts or work odd hours. Of combining motherhood and work, she says, "You think you'll just work and carry your baby on your back and make your own baby food. No one can really do that." Although there are legions of disgruntled waiters and waitresses, Robinson isn't one of them. "I've made myself like it because I don't see how people can have a job they hate. What I do and where I work is not what defines me, although I know most of the world does define me like that. I hate to be around people who are always talking about what else they're going to be doing someday. If you're a slacker server, you're going to be a slacker in your real job, too. How can you run a company when you can't even mop the floor?" John Nolt, philosophy professor This years winner of the College of Arts and Sciences Teaching and Public Service awards, University of Tennessee professor John Nolt accepts them on behalf of his whole family, especially his wife, Karen. Without her, he says, his work would not be possible. She is half of everything I do. The author of a couple of textbooks on logic, in the past few years Nolt has carved out a specialty in environmental ethics. Teaching this subject is the perfect way to combine his educational skills with his environmental activism. Before he knew whether his colleagues would be receptive to his environmental ideas, he says, I was being pulled in two directions. I had to reconcile the two or give up one. Nolt, 44, is active on a number of fronts, serving as vice-president of the Foundation for Global Sustainability and board member of the Narrow Ridge Earth Literacy Center. His book, Down to Earth: Toward a Philosophy of Non-violent Living, was published last spring. The environmental work, he says, is the most important work I do, aside from my family. His family, in fact, spurred his decision to get involved with conservation and natural resource issues. After the birth of my daughter 10 years ago, I realized we were destroying a lot of the advantages Id had when I was growing up. His work at UT and in the community is a counterpart to the work he does at home, all of it satisfying. He and his wife and two children live as low-tech a lifestyle as possible, making their own cheeses, raising their own fruits and vegetables, and laboring around the yard without the aid of power tools. For his sons third birthday, the family cut down a black locust tree, split it by hand, then planed the boards to build a wagon. It was just the way they would have done it 200 years ago, he says. If Nolts lifestyle seems old-fashioned, thats deliberate. He believes some of societys modern ideas, including the current conception of a work ethic, are ultimately harmful. I would want to challenge the whole idea of a work ethic, says Nolt. Work is not something you do out of an obligation to community or society. Work is something that fulfills your purpose in life. Nolt believes people have been fooled into thinking their needshealth care, child care, and other amenitiescan best be addressed through employment with a corporation. Instead, he says, people should learn that its more rewarding to live independently with less than to develop that kind of dependency. Although he knows his views are controversial, Nolt believes that in most cases, its better for children to stay at home with a parent while they are still small. At the Nolt house, his wife is the stay-at-home partner, although they know couples in which the roles are reversed. Nolt says many of the things for which people believe they need a second paycheck are luxuries, not the basics that are all anyone needs: food, shelter, clothing and love. Nowhere is money on that list. Work should be something you can do that enhances your love of life. If it makes you disillusioned or bitter or cynical, its wrong. Thea Lane, small-business owner Thea Lane's wardrobe is evolving. Although she still sometimes wears the power dresses and suits that were her uniform in corporate America, these days you are as likely to find her at work in T-shirts, casual skirts and even jeans. Asked about her new dress code, Lane grins and says, "It's changing for the better." The co-owner of Eden, a new shop specializing in home accessories and gifts, Lane is having fun in the workplace, a feeling new to her at age 33. "I've never had a job I loved, although I've certainly searched for that, she says. This is a first for me." As an interior designer in Washington, D.C., Lane worked in that city at a time when corporations had lots of money to spend for her employer's services. When she began working here for another firm four years ago, following her husband's transfer, she found that she had to educate clients about what exactly she did and why her fees were justified. "What I hated about it was having to validate what I did." Uncomfortable with having to use the hard-sell approach to market her skills, Lane began talking in February with Elizabeth Moore, who had owned the funky, upscale thrift store Jambayala, about opening a shop together. By August they were in business. Moore searches out antiques and flea market finds, while Lane puts her product knowledge and experience working with vendors to use tracking down and ordering new merchandise. Although the experience of growing a business from the ground up is a stressful one for many entrepreneurs, for Lane "it's so calm and easy," a relief from the corporate grind. The hardest thing about her job now is tearing herself away from it. "I'm probably there more than I need to be," she says. She's still financially dependent on freelance design work from some of her former clients, and says she has to force herself to go home and get to work on those projects to "put food on the table." By making a break from the career fast track, Lane says she'll have time to travel, to go back to school and to think about what other kinds of work she wants to do in her life. She may eventually study environmental planning, with an eye toward designing green spaces for urban centers. The happiness that comes from doing something she wants to do is worth the courage it took to make that leap into the unknown. For those considering a similar jump into their own business, she has ready advice: "Just close your eyes and go." Alex Vineyard, office cleaner Alex Vineyard doesnt slack on his job, heading from his downtown basement headquarters to one darkened office building after another. There he empties trash baskets, polishes marble floors and answers calls from employees begging off shifts in other buildings. But as hard as he works at his office cleaning business, he pours as much or more energy into his hobbyracing go-carts. Vineyard started cleaning offices about 10 years ago, and has owned his business, A.T. Co., since 1992. He cleans nine buildings and has about seven people working for him. As the person who answers to complaints from unhappy clients, Vineyard, 33, gets the job done right the first time. Its harder, though, to find workers who care as much. Some employees last but a day on the job; others wait to collect their first paycheck, then split. Those kinds of headaches, plus the lack of recognition for the work he does (They dont notice what you do. They notice what you dont do.) leave him needing an outlet for his tensions. He finds it on the racetrack. Far from being childs play, go-cart racing is a competitive venture, with its own racing circuit and enthusiasts ready to drag extra frames, engines and tires to the track each weekend. His dad got into the hobby when Vineyard was in high school, and his father and brother now serve as his pit crew and support team. Im the driver, and boy, is it fun, he says. Its a big release to pull that little helmet on and shut out the world. In 1992, Vineyard won the national championship for dirt track racing. Hed like to get away from local tracks and get back to some of the bigger races. If youre good and you win, you get a certain amount of respect from your peers. You know youre good at something. Although he likes what he does for a living, thats the kind of recognition he doesnt get in the workplace. I get compliments on our work sometimes, but thats something anyone can do, he says. Anyone can get some Brasso and a rag and polish a door, but not everyone can win. Asked if he has ever thought about opening his own go-cart accessories and repair shop, Vineyard says, I think about it, kind of, sometimes. But then it would be too much like work." ugton, D.C., Lane worked in that city at a time when corporations had lots 44OO @@"#-.=8ic m W m,u>?lm}E(! X!"#$^& & &$&%')V+q,.001 1 21346889;<=4=5=U=V>?A0BCDEFFGGHJ>KLWLMjNMNOO^ NOuE%/:kCLNP@ P@P @uP@aP O(O) HH(FG(HH(d'`=/R@H-:LaserWriter 8 New YorkCourierE(8 Work leadBob and Tracy JonesBob and Tracy Jones