“Nothing is impossible when you work for the good of the whole, and not just yourself.”
What I learned about myself while working at H&H Ship and Environmental Services was this: if I put my mind to it, I could get the job done. Nothing was impossible as long as I was performing not for self-gain, but for the well-being of the whole. I was responsible for the safety and welfare of those who worked under me in a volatile line of work—one that had already claimed a life, and had brought the entire company under scrutiny by various government agencies in the state of California. The threat of a shutdown loomed large.
What moved me most was that many of the workers were illiterate men with families to go home to—men who didn’t even realize they were breathing in toxic fumes or carrying hazardous waste home on their skin and clothing after long hours inside Underground Storage Tanks. Many would go home still reeking of oil and sludge, and play with their children and grandchildren as if nothing was wrong. It became my personal mission to find a remedy, at whatever cost.
My first impression of the yard was pure dismay: black oil and sludge splattered everywhere, a rundown shack housing a filthy refrigerator, the stench of urine from the lack of proper restrooms, and algae-covered, muddy ground from poor drainage. And all of this, mind you, just three kilometers from downtown San Francisco.
Right there and then, I made it my priority to clean up. And clean I did—flipping the entire yard upside down. I struck a pact with Will Harris Jr., the company’s heir, that if he gave up his addictions to booze and cocaine, I would help turn the company around. Will, or “Little Foot” as the employees called him, went to rehab and came back to run the company as its President. Together, we began transforming the place. I was even invited to share my vision with a team of engineers in his office.
In less than two years, Will became San Francisco’s Entrepreneur of the Year. His idea to launch a HAZMAT Emergency Response Team to handle toxic waste spills around the Bay Area was one of many forward-thinking initiatives.
Will had a bright past—a high school quarterback and the only son of a millionaire. But after the tragic loss of his wife and son in a car accident, his life spiraled. When I met him, he was at his lowest. But he recovered. And he rose.
I stayed for a while in the basement of his Oakland home while he was in rehab. The place had a Jacuzzi at the entrance, a drum set, a large electronic organ, and a waterbed. Ironically, I had originally been hired to clean that yard, not knowing it would lead me into the heart of one of the most intense chapters of my life.
The job was not without drama. I went from yard sweeper to Yard Boss. I got punched. I had a knife held to my neck. There was jealousy, racism, and resentment. I was an outsider—an Asian man in charge of mostly African American and Latin American workers. Many of the truck drivers didn’t like taking orders from someone like me. But I had the support of my boss—and, more importantly, the workers at the bottom, those who saw that I was doing everything I could for their safety and dignity.
Our team was a mosaic of humanity: a 72-year-old Native American and his grandson, a few Cubans, Filipinos, a Vietnamese worker or two. Some kept guns in their car trunks, some were half-drunk or high. But I treated them with straight talk and respect. I reminded them of the tragic explosion that had killed their former supervisor, and I pushed hard for safety and discipline.
I called it The Broom Philosophy. Cleanliness—housekeeping—was our guiding principle. No matter what else was going on, we kept a clean house. It was about more than hygiene. It was about respect, order, and survival. A clean work environment became the foundation of everything. It was the difference between life and death.
Closing line:
In the end, all I really did was pick up a broom — and with it, I swept away chaos, despair, and doubt, clearing a path for dignity and hope to rise again.
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