Andre my Uber driver

I stood on the breezy street corner beneath a set of high-rise office buildings and thumbed for a driver on my Uber app. Three minutes later, my week-long business trip was in the rear-view mirror, and I was on the interstate zooming toward the DFW airport.

I was just starting to think about what size Starbucks I would order after I made it through security, when I realized I hadn't yet introduced myself.

Andre was a young man making side money on his way to a dream.

Currently, he is on a cleaning crew at a nursing home, making enough for his family: a wife and 3-year-old daughter. It's not just another job to him. He spoke fondly about his clients, the patients who lived there. Their names, their histories, their families were all precious to him. You could see the smile drain from his face as he talked about the too-often death of a resident. "You get to know them, personally. They're family, you know?"

I looked away when he said it and bit my lip. I stared at the endless rows of homes below the overpass. My own father had passed away in a care facility, and it was still fresh. "We need more people like this guy," I almost said aloud.

Andre went on about his dream. He had it all planned out. He was about to start his own commercial cleaning business. Working 60-70-hour weeks wasn't going to bother him, he said, because in just a year he would begin to hire his own crew. The labor market has seemed to support his enthusiasm. Revenue from janitorial services in the past 10 years has increased by nearly $10 billion, according to some research data estimates. The industry tends to follow the real estate market, and in north Texas, at least, that's nothing but big plus signs.

I couldn't help but drink in Andre's optimism, as he pointed to a giant three-story office complex a couple hundred yards to our right. "That right there I can tell you would bring in $250,000 a year." I wouldn't doubt it, especially if a crew had daily or weekly responsibilities there. The trick was getting your mop in the door, because those accounts don't just fall in your bucket. I bet, though, Andre had that figured out, too.

The ride was too short. I started seeing airplanes crisscross the sky above our car, indicating our time was about up. I asked him a few more questions, a little more about work, and how a career really wasn't the goal. "I don't want to get super rich," he said, deftly cutting across another lane of traffic. "I just want to make this work and also make my family happy." With that kind of attitude, I'm certain he'll be rich.

Andre also reminded me to ignore the naysayers who stand in the way of what's most important, what you really want in life. Then he dropped a quote I later learned was from Albert Einstein. It was Andre's own paraphrased version, but vivid nonetheless. "My philosophy is live for today, remember yesterday, and hope for tomorrow." He broke out into a grin as big as the Texas horizon. "You've got to do what's in front of you. You've got to let go of the past. You've got a lot to look forward to." With that, he snaked his car through the crowd and coasted to my gate.

Andre jumped out, rolled my luggage to the curb, and handed me a couple of business cards. He hadn't started his new venture yet, but his services were already etched on a 2-inch by 3-1/2-inch strip of cardboard.

A good head start on tomorrow.