GOT JUNK?

 4367

Lately, I have been noticing temporary signage along the nearby four laned highways advertising what I might refer to as an interstate business. 

The name of the company is part and parcel of the phone number

                                      1-800-Got Junk

Their one and only raison d'etre to pick up unwanted trash, rubbish, and junk from homes and businesses.

As I was pedaling my daily 10 miles yesterday, I turned down a little seldom-used lane which runs behind the local Dollar General store, and which connects with a nearby street. And, I have often noticed how deplorable the property is. Old sofas, toilet bowls, aluminum cans, circulars and newspapers, etc.

Reaching the end of the lane, and the intersection of the connecting street, I did a 180, and pedaled back towards Dollar General, and the sidewalk beyond. Suddenly, a truck with a very familiar moniker on its side came up behind me. (1-800-Got Junk)

And just before reaching the posterior wall of Dollar General, the truck stopped, and backed in. Suddenly, two men jumped out of the vehicle, and proceeded towards its rear door.

And it occurred to me that the Got Junk men were about to deposit their junk on, in, and about the existing rubbish in the area. And while I am not the boldest, nor most outspoken person in central Florida, I could not help but ask one of the men,

"Are you planning to dump your junk out here?"

And I followed up with a statement.

"Because if you do, I know someone who is going to report you."

The worker merely shook his head, and immediately denied this was their plan.

As you might expect, I was skeptical of his assurance, and made a decision to drive back to the spot, after I pedaled the final five miles of my daily trek.

Arriving home, I went inside, made and devoured a sandwich, downed half a Pepsi, watched my favorite news channel for ten or fifteen minutes, jumped into my car, and headed back from whence I had come.

As I drove in front of the store, and turned the corner, I noticed the Got Junk vehicle was still there. And with this, all my presuppositions vanished.

One man was on top of the open roof of the cargo truck, and another stood on the metal lift behind the back door, a bedraggled red couch between them, as they man-handled it into place.

They were loading the truck, not unloading it!

I immediately felt ashamed for accusing them of being commercial litter bugs. 

I felt an obligation to make things right, and I slowed to a stop. Directing my attention to the youngest man, I spoke.

"I'm the guy who pedaled past you guys earlier, and asked if you were dumping your junk in this field."

(and)

"But, I see you are picking up the junk. 

(and)

Please forgive me."

The man nodded slightly, and I turned my automobile towards home.

I promised myself that if, and when possible, I would surrender my useless presuppositions, and believe the best about friends and strangers, alike, 'til I had a valid reason to do otherwise.

by Bill McDonald, PhD