My father is a garbage collector. For some people, that single sentence is enough to trigger judgment, distance, or quiet disdain. They see the uniform before they see the man. They notice the early mornings, the physical exhaustion, the smell of hard labor—and instead of offering respect, they choose prejudice. What they don’t see is dignity stitched into every fold of that uniform. They don’t see responsibility carried like a badge of honor. They don’t see a man who chose honest work in a world that often forgets how valuable honesty truly is.
Today is my father’s birthday. And yes, many people didn’t congratulate him. That silence hurt more than words ever could. Not because he needs praise to feel worthy—but because it revealed how invisible people like him can become in a society obsessed with status. Still, invisibility has never stopped him from showing up. While others sleep, he is already out there, cleaning the streets, lifting the weight of a city so others can walk through it without thinking twice. While others judge from a distance, he works with his hands, his back, and his unwavering sense of duty.
My father doesn’t ask for applause. He doesn’t demand recognition. He believes that doing your job well—especially when it serves others—is its own form of pride. And that is exactly why he deserves more respect than he’s often given. He deserves gratitude, not pity. He deserves to be seen, not overlooked. Because the world runs quietly on the backs of people like him, even if it refuses to say so out loud.
So please, don’t be the person who looks away. Be the person who says thank you. Be the person who understands that no honest job is ever beneath dignity. Happy Birthday to my father—an honest man, a relentless worker, and my hero.