One Solid Worker

You walk down the aisle of your local grocery store. You just left work, you need groceries to fix dinner. You need that can of broth and you just don’t see it. You crane your neck, you look like a failed ballerina and there at the back of the shelf is a lone can of broth. You reach, you strain and finally you have it. You feel a little like Indiana Jones nimbly seizing the booby-trapped ancient artifact.

The moment passes, you place the can in your basket and proceed to checkout. What you don’t realize is that your struggle to find that precious broth and the near-acrobatic performance executed wouldn’t be necessary, if Dean were not on vacation.

“When Dean goes on vacation, the next day you can tell he hasn’t been here.” says Bob Loewen, manager of Albertsons in Glasgow, Mont., when asked about lifelong resident and longest serving employee, Dean Moen.

Loewen recalls his first day nine years ago. A shorter, slightly stocky man with what his sisters affectionately refer to as a “chrome-dome” approached. “I got along with him right from day one. I’ve been here nine years and we just hit it off right away. I knew he was going to be a good employee. He came up and introduced himself. He came right out and said “Hi, I’m Dean.”

“We were not told that he had down’s when he was born. And then when he was two and he wasn’t talking we questioned it and that’s when they told us.” Mary-Ann Moen, Dean’s mother, remembers an agile, capable boy.

It was an accident at the age of fifteen that would begin Dean’s struggles. “It was just before his sixteenth birthday and he suffered a brain stem bruise. He was hospitalized in Great Falls for a month and he didn’t talk, he couldn’t talk.” Mary-Ann remembers. A month later Dean was moved from Great Falls to the hospital in Glasgow and over the course of a month worked closely with physical and speech therapists. Mary-Ann feels the change in environment played a large part in his rehabilitation. “They were working with him and right away, when he was in familiar surroundings and around familiar people he started talking.”

Shortly after his recovery Dean took a job in the produce department at what was then, Buttrey Food. “His sisters would come in to the store and move the bananas and apples around. They would torment him.” Mary-Ann giggled.

Dean proved to be an asset. “He’s focused and religious on time. He arrives to work on time, takes his break at the same time, always has two maple bars and a Coke and then he’s right back to work.” said Loewen, “You know its very rare to have a good solid worker that shows up and is reliable, its rare.”

Dean moved from produce to facing. He surveys every aisle making sure the products are facing out, lined up and accessible. “It’s an important job. If Dean weren’t doing it I’d probably be doing it.” Loewen points out. “He is not just a person here, he is a valuable person.”

When Dean isn’t working he can be playing games, collecting the offerings at a local church or watching one of his favorite movie stars. “He has quite a collection of John Wayne videos, just about all of them, over a hundred.” Mary-Ann tells me, “There’s some Humphrey Bogart in there but John Wayne is his favorite.”

And like most things in Dean’s life his movie collection has a special place to call its own. “When he moved to his new apartment he ordered a new cabinet for his immense collection. He went to purchase the cabinet at the local hardware store and he was told it would cost $2,300. He simply said “Okay, I’ll take it.” And the clerk said “Dean, that’s two thousand three hundred dollars.” Dean said, “Okay.” Skeptical, the clerk called Mary-Ann, “Is this okay?”  “Yeah, that’s okay.” she replied. “Dean has always been responsible and very frugal with his money.” She said.

If Dean isn't glued to John Wayne charging through Death Valley he is probably charging through Glasgow on his own trusty steed – his bike.  “He rides all the time in the summer and a little in the winter. Sometimes it’d be 30 below and Dean would ride to work,” recalls Loewen.

Mary-Ann tells a story of a particularly frigid day when bike riding was probably not the best idea. “One day he was riding his bike and the streets were icy. Dean was having trouble getting up a hill and he sort of got stuck. He just wasn't moving. Some people drove past and then turned around. They helped him and he was back on his way.” Recalling the incident gives Mary-Ann pause. “I talked to the young lady and told her I worried what would happen to Dean when we were gone,” she continues her voice wavering, “She said, don’t worry, the people of Glasgow would take care of him.”  The community is an integral part of Dean’s life and most would say an important part of his development. “Working at Albertsons these forty years people are always helping him.” Mary-Ann says, knowing as a mother does that her son is well loved. She gives a great deal of credit to his work and to the people he’s met along the way.

Loewen sees Dean’s role at Albertsons in a larger context. “He’s important to part of what we do and you know in a small town you are all family.”

Family and friends are broader concepts for Dean. Glasgow is his family, coworkers are more like friends and the people he meets as they pass through his aisles are met with the same bright smile and friendly demeanor.

So the next time you find yourself struggling to find that item on the grocery list and find yourself on the tips of your toes, an awkward ballerina, remember Dean will be back, he is probably just on vacation.

“Retire, no, I’ve talked to him about it, no. We’re gonna see who lasts longer. A little friendly competition.” Loewen smiles.

After forty years, if I were you I would put my money on Dean.

This story first appeared in the Fall 2009 issue of Apostrophe Magazine. Apostrophe is a quarterly magazine for people with disabilities who are overcoming apostrophes in their lives. Forget can't and don't. We can and do.” For more information check out www.apostrophemagazine.com.