The company I perform research for (my paying gig) just hosted its summer outing.

These are usually rah-rah events.  Attendees get a logo stamped mug or a tee-shirt.  There’s usually a team building element and we close out with snacks and booze.

I appreciate the effort — creating a reason to get together with co-workers and hold conversations about things other than deadlines and difficult clients — but I also dislike contrived activities.

The admin in charge of this year’s outing thought it would nice to partner with an organization that aims to make a positive difference and maintains compelling data aimed educating people about small changes they could make.  This represented a tie-in with our company’s focus on research.

Under the guidance of Alliance for The Great Lakes, employees and regular contractors were invited to clean up Montrose Beach, just a few miles north of downtown Chicago.

Nathan, a spokesman for the organization, explained a little about their work, then went on to provide instructions for the next 2 hours.  Afterwards, we would enjoy mojitos and hot dogs at The Dock.

The main mission of Alliance for the Great Lakes is to keep the shores of the great lakes safe, healthy, and beautiful for future generations.   The great lakes provides drinking water for over 40 million people.

The Alliance holds benefits and seeks out corporate sponsors and partners.  They run educational programs and enlist volunteers for beach clean-up days.

Sometimes, they recruit interested volunteers from nearby communities via their website.  Sometimes, they partner with organizations that wish to make a team-building exercise around the effort of removing plastic and other types of trash from our lakefront.

One-two-three-four-five-six.  We were told to count ourselves off out loud, so we would be able to form six groups of four or five people. I ended up on a team with my immediate supervisor, one of our summer interns, and the oldest researcher in our company.

We were given clear plastic gloves, as we all understood picking up garbage could get icky, and one person in each group was handed a form and miniature golf-sized eraser-less pencil, to document our respective hauls.  I ended up as scribe.

We were to keep tick marks to count things we bagged like cigarette butts, candy wrappers, fireworks, plastic beverage bottles, and plastic eating utensils.  There were also categories for children’s toys, diapers, condoms, and Other.

The Alliance actually exchanged data with other organizations with similar missions.  The data on our intake forms was to be tabulated. Each garbage bag was weighed on return.  Bragging rights would go to the team whose brought in the most pounds.

After the first 45 minutes, I abandoned making pencil marks.  My teammates understood. The fun seemed to be in the act of collecting things or in holding the trash bag open.

When my team came in to have our stuff weighed, it turned out we did fill up the most bags and had the most pounds. Just the four of us ladies collected about 53 pounds (in 90 minutes).

Cigarette butts, paper goods, popsicle stills, Capri Sun foil pouches, broken beer bottle, pieces of popped balloons – who’d think we could collect so much trash in so little time?

As we considered what types of things people just left on the beach or under trees, my team members also remarked on how one week later, we would probably be able to collect an equal amount.

Rather than feel discouraged about this, concluding that our efforts did not make a difference, I felt good.  My consciousness was changed by a simple direct experience.

I was reminded that I want to tread more lightly during my time on earth.  I don’t want to leave a legacy of garbage for someone else to clean up.

When you can see the consequences of unconscious actions, it can change you.  If every person, could have a similar moment of awareness and renewed sense of personal responsibility, that could truly make a difference.

I guess, life’s a beach.

Filling up a couple trash bags on a sunny summer afternoon is no small thing.