"Hey, Mister, where's the integrity?"

When I walk into my local grocery store every Saturday afternoon, I’m aware of the exchanged glances among cashiers. “There she is. The woman with the clipboard.” 

I’ll admit. I’m obsessive about my groceries. My list is categorized by departments, and I prop up my clipboard where I can easily mark things off. I typically buy lots of (very) carefully selected produce, which frustrates the cashiers because they are forced to look up the codes for uncommon fruits and vegetables they don’t have memorized. (I’ve offered to take the list home to familiarize myself with the codes and save time - but no one seems to appreciate the offer.)

However, there is another weekly routine at the store that may go unnoticed unless one studies the cameras. If so, they would find me sneaking a photo of the store manager to prove to my husband I’m not making things up. Even though this man seems to be a senior manager, he unashamedly stands in the middle of the aisles watching movies on his phone while he rips open and munches on outdated Little Debbie’s and Twinkies or sometimes Doritos. 

I find this lack of work ethic so unsettling, I have lingered beside him a few times, just hoping the movie on his phone would be some kind of work-related instructional video, but no. They are always Netflix type movies with drama that sounds equivalent to soap operas. And surprisingly, he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing as if he sees absolutely nothing wrong with it. I can’t imagine how he manages others on his team. Hey, Mister, where’s the integrity? 

I experienced another incident recently when I was waiting in line at a local pharmacy. The elderly man in front of me was frustrated for reasons that sounded justified to me, but when he grew more and more vocal about it, the pharmacist (the professional in the room) struck an aggressive pose from his post and barked back some rant about how no one knew or understood all he went through and how hard he worked and then yelled, “Peace out!” while making a gesture toward the man that was slightly less offensive than the finger, motioning him to the door. Again, I couldn’t imagine how those reporting to this pharmacist felt about his outrageous, unprofessional display. Again, where’s the integrity?

Needless to say, the grocery store manager and the pharmacist have entered my Work Ethics Hall of Fame, which already includes an angry postal worker who threw my Christmas packages across the room when I showed up close to closing time. Both new examples will be incorporated into my Blue Monarch course where I teach the importance of integrity in the workplace.

Truth is, we have come to a place where doing the minimum is acceptable, protecting our own personal comfort and peace takes priority, and going the extra mile is rare. But I am proud to report, Blue Monarch teaches the exact opposite.

We have gained quite a reputation in the recovery community as the “boot camp of recovery.” In fact, we sometimes have new women move in from other programs where they were discouraged from coming to Blue Monarch because “you can’t do it.” And yet they do and prove them wrong.

While scrolling through my phone one day, I found a video that described a method to help with anxiety. We deal with a lot of anxiety at Blue Monarch, so I stopped to listen. The man instructed the viewer to take a deep breath while counting to four. And then, here’s the part that got my attention: When you feel your lungs are full and you can’t take another breath, take a deeper breath for two counts. After holding your breath for a few seconds longer, release to the count of six. 

When I tried it, I was surprised that I still had room in my lungs for that second deep breath even when I felt my lungs were completely full. And that second breath is what describes the women of Blue Monarch. When it feels like there is no room for a second breath - they take it anyway.

What does that look like? Doing the minimum is no longer acceptable. Protecting the peace and comfort for her child takes priority over her own. And going the extra mile becomes routine. 

She’s exhausted and may wish she could sleep late and take the day off. But instead, she gets her kids dressed and ready for school despite their frustrating behaviors, walks them to the bus stop even though one child may run the opposite direction, returns to do her daily chores, which may be no fun, and gathers her homework for her first class while scrambling to fill in the blanks she missed when she collapsed and fell asleep the night before.

She probably wants to clam up and ignore her inner thoughts and feelings. She would rather avoid the pain of digging into the reasons she started using drugs in the first place. But she puts aside her pride, opens up with raw honesty, and asks for help and accountability through vulnerable tears. 

She may consider leaving, regaining all the freedoms she gave up to be at Blue Monarch, and may even have thoughts of using drugs to numb the pain. But then she thinks of her child, how she wants a better life for him than what she had growing up, and she looks to Jesus for strength instead of giving in to her unhealthy thoughts. 

She may resent all the extra effort to connect with a child that sometimes hurts or frustrates her - like spending intentional time together, reading books at bedtime, helping with homework. But she eventually discovers those are things she loves and she begins to stand at the bus stop with excitement and anticipation rather than dread and resentment. She's genuinely anxious to hear about her child's day. 

In other words, when she thinks her lungs are full and there’s nothing left, she rears back and takes a deeper breath anyway. She does it because she is becoming the mom she desperately wants her kids to have. And there’s the integrity.