If you can dream it, you can do it.
In the spring of 2001, because I was but a foetus who didn’t have much going on at work, I spent my free time mining the internet in search of contests. Raffles, sweepstakes, that sort of thing.
All I wanted was to win a year’s supply of… something.
I can’t recall how long I spent on this task, but I would say it was an amount any employer would rightly balk at. It was too much, but it also turned out to be just right.
For what seemed like the longest time I didn’t win anything. I came to realize that the odds were too stacked against me in games of chance, so I focused my efforts on something else: finding contests with a small task involved, especially if I could leverage my bullshitting skills for a competitive advantage. Soon enough, I found one.
Sponsored by workwear manufacturer Dickies, the “2001 American Worker of the Year” contest had a great grand prize: a brand new pickup truck. I didn’t need a truck but I sure wanted one, so I entered the contest.
Technically it was my ex-wife who entered, though she didn’t know it yet. “She” wrote a paragraph nominating someone in her life who exemplified what it means to be a hard worker.
Presumably the contest was targeted at actual hard working types, plumbers and carpenters and machinists and mechanics. I wore Dickies pants pretty regularly, at least, and figured if someone out of the ordinary were nominated, maybe they’d have a better chance of winning. And photography — at least the way I do it — does involve crawling around on the ground and moving a lot of furniture. So that’s something.
Couldn’t a photographer be the worker of the year?
It turns out that yes, a photographer could be. And in fact I was.
I did not, unfortunately, win the grand prize. (That went to another William who, by appearances, was a significantly better choice. He got to be interviewed on Good Morning America, too.) But I did come home one day to find the answering machine blinking with a message from an employee of Dickies asking my then-wife to call back asap. I had to quickly provide context for what I assumed she was about to be told.
She called the Dickies representative right away and listened intently, giggling, before handing the phone over to me. As I spoke, feigning surprised confusion, she left the room in an effort to mask her howls of laughter.
“I’m pleased to inform you,” the woman on the phone said, “that you have been named the 2001 Dickies Worker of the Year for the state of Missouri.”
“Oh wow!” I’m sure I replied. “That’s… tremendous.”
She went on to explain my duties — none — and the prizes I would get. I was to receive $250 in cash, $200 in Dickies gift certificates (which I traded in for several pairs of pants and a jacket that I wore regularly for 20 years), and the piéce de résistance, a custom embroidered heavy duty work coat proclaiming my status as Missouri’s worker of the year.
I have to confess, I don’t wear this coat often. In fact I had to search for it in the bowels of the spare closet. But I’ve donned it quite a few times over the years and it’s become, against my better judgement, a prized possession.
I love everything about it. I love that it has this giant, beautifully stitched embroidery across the back. I love that it’s very well made and seemingly indestructible, the kind of thing a real hard worker would wear.
Mostly I love that it can only be worn by me. You see, it’s personalized. For me. William Sawalich. From Missouri.
There’s no great lesson here, other than the potential value of wasting time.
I wish I had the perfect punchline, some sort of “what can we learn about the value of hard work” moral to the story. Maybe I can hijack “If you can dream it, you can do it?” Sure, that seems fine.
I suppose the real takeaway is simple:
For one brief, shining moment, I was officially the hardest working man in Missouri. And even more impressive, since I was the only photographer to win the award, it also means, technically, that I was the hardest working photographer in America.
Bill Sawalich • Photographer + Writer 