“Could you tell me where the sizes 7’s are?” Lori asked a young man standing at the store’s counter.
We were in the mall, where a well-known shoe store offered her many options.
“I’m sorry, I’m ‘off the clock,'” he responded.
He wasn’t being sarcastic or angry; he just matter-of-factly commented, “I’m off the clock.”
“Off the clock? What do you mean!” But I didn’t say it.
He was standing, arms crossed, doing nothing. It would have taken about the same effort for him to say, “Over there, aisle 8′” as it did for him to say, “Off the clock.”
I get it, at least in part. He was afraid that one question might lead to another, and we would have him dragging all the size 7s to us while he was on break.
In which case, he could have said, “Let me get someone to help you.”
“Maybe all the talk about the younger generation lacking a strong work ethic is true,” I whispered to Lori as we searched for her size.
I don’t see it in all young people, and certainly not our kids. And, in all fairness, it’s not only the younger generation whose work ethic has been the subject of question over the last few years. For example, Jean M. Twenge, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology at San Diego State University, published findings on this topic in an article whose subtitle reveals her conclusion: “Gen Z really does have a work ethic problem, or maybe we all do.”
Was it post-pandemic burnout: the result of lockdowns, virtual school, or strife over whether to mask? Or maybe the extra time alone allowed people to ask, “Is the ‘rat race’ worth it?”
We’ve heard or read about the effects in headlines like “The Great Resignation,” in which workers resigned from their jobs en masse, triggered by the pandemic.
Then there’s “Quiet Quitting,” a term for those workers who stay on but do the least amount of labor possible without getting fired.
The latest trend is “Bare Minimum Monday,” where employees do the least possible on Mondays, which I suppose could be in tandem with “Quiet Quitting.”
Why did our commitment to work take such a hit? Twenge concludes it is “a bit of a mystery why the work ethic dropped so much in 2021 and 2022.”
Maybe the type of Protestantism (Calvinism) that Max Weber (who coined the phrase “work ethic”) in his classic book, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, has diminished to the degree that a “work ethic,” at least one undergirded by a desire to seek God’s approval, isn’t nearly as pervasive in our culture as in years past.
Or do we as a nation no longer have an intrinsic cultural identity that values work?
Or perhaps we’ve lost the notion that work has a purpose beyond labor.
I can’t imagine the Apostle Paul putting down his needle as he wove fabric into tents and telling someone who asked about the gospel, “I’m off the clock now. Come back next week, and I’ll tell you the Good News if you make a contribution.”
Granted, the location of shoes isn’t the same as proclaiming the gospel, but perhaps we’re missing the larger picture: how we live and work is a declaration of our life values.
As Paul said to the Corinthians: “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God” (First Corinthians 10:31).
Paul had a purpose based on his calling, and his desire to do his best flowed from that. If we have no purpose in our work, if we believe what we are doing is pointless—other than “staying on the clock” and getting a paycheck—then obstacles can become mountains, reasons enough for not working.
Walking from the mall to the parking lot (no, Lori didn’t find a pair of shoes), I had a renewed sense of gratitude for God’s grace as manifested in those who, through the centuries, carried the message and did not walk away, so that when I asked what it was and how I could have it, I found someone who could give me an answer.
Someone who wasn’t “off the clock.”