You learn things.
That I am way, way too competitive — something I have long suspected — was just one of the things I learned Tuesday from a 39-year-old man named Justin Fields.
They paired me with Justin at a Safeway media grocery-bagging challenge, an annual event the company holds to begin its fundraising campaign for people with disabilities.
Every April, the grocery chain seeks donations from customers for Easter Seals Colorado and Special Olympics Colorado. Over the past three years, the fundraiser has generated more than $1.9 million for the two charities.
Justin was introduced to me not far from the grandstand erected just inside the doors of the Safeway at East 14th Avenue and Krameria Street in Denver. He seems disappointed.
“I thought it was going to be Mark Schlereth,” he says loudly, clearly pining for the former Broncos offensive lineman and current ESPN football analyst he had been partnered with a year earlier. “What the heck.”
Justin, a courtesy clerk at a Safeway in Federal Heights, is one of some 400 disabled men and women employed in Colorado by the chain.
What Justin’s disability might be isn’t readily apparent. He is courteous and knows a little about perhaps everything.
“I’m not really sure, either,” says Ray Bruggers, his store manager. “It’s kind of a mystery at the store. All I know is he’s one of our best.”
The challenge is to bag a cartful of groceries properly in the fastest time with the utmost care, while also properly filling a green reusable grocery sack.
“It’s easy,” instructs Justin, who has been bagging for three years. I press him for tips, something that might give us an edge. He smiles at me.
“Make sure you talk nicely to the customers,” he says. “That’s the most important thing. You want them to come back.”
He and Schlereth finished second last year. Justin says not properly loading the reusable bag cost them. We agree that he will handle it this time.
Born in Hawaii, Justin lived all over the country while growing up, before his mother finally settled in Greeley.
Justin now owns his own condo in Federal Heights just blocks from the store, and he commutes there four days a week by bicycle.
When our turn arrives, he advises putting the heavy items — cans and bottles mostly — on the bottom and along the sides of the bags.
“Eggs and bread,” he says, “always go on the top.”
A checker at the register scans the items and begins flinging them at us. I grab the cans and bottles, slipping them as fast as I can into the plastic bags.
Justin hangs the reusable bag on two hooks. He smiles as he deftly loads it. I am a mess, but I think I’m doing reasonably well.
Justin had told me multiple times not to care too much. Grown-ups, he explained, always overthink things. The key is to be happy simply doing your best.
When the final numbers are tallied, Justin and I finish tied for second-to-last out of the nine teams. In terms of time, we came in dead last at 2 minutes, 10 seconds — nearly a minute longer than most teams.
Justin’s expertise with the reusable bag nets us three points and keeps us from finishing last overall.
We chat some more while we wait to receive our participation trophy. Justin tells me of his love of books, of the way work makes him happy.
It dawned on me. He was a guy I probably never would have bothered speaking with before that day, and I would have been worse for it.
And it was clear to me why no one knew anything of his disability: It didn’t matter.
“Hey, we’re not ninth!” Justin says when I apologize for bagging so slowly.
“I told you I didn’t care,” he says. “And why? This is all going to a good cause.”
Bill Johnson writes Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Reach him at 303-954-2763 or wjohnson@denverpost.com.
