Co-workers buy new electric bike for Josiah’s employee

SIOUX FALLS, S.D. (Dakota News Now) — We all know that famous old line our elders used to illustrate how much harder they had it when they were your age, walking to school.

"Ten miles, uphill, both ways, through snow."

One Sioux Falls man has come about as close as anyone to this experience on a daily basis for six years.

So, before you bemoan your commute to work — the distance, the traffic, the angry or incompetent fellow motorists, the severe weather your vehicle sometimes has to trudge through — consider the daily commute of Alex Rust.

The 24-year-old doesn't walk ten miles both ways, but until last week, Rust pedaled a traditional bicycle 4.2 miles each way, each workday, to and from him home near 12th and Sertoma on the far west side of Sioux Falls to Josiah's Coffeehouse, Cafe & Bakery in downtown, where he works as a dishwasher.

Some of those days were beautiful, and Rust enjoyed the ride and his time outdoors. Some days, Rust would ride through inches of rain or snow or sleet, or on unrelenting ice. Some days, through walloping winds or storms or sleet, and some days in blazing summer humidity and heat.

No matter the weather, those days workdays used to begin at 2 a.m., when he'd wake up and get ready at home. Around 3:30 a.m., he'd set off for Josiah's and arrive 2-3 hours prior to his 8 am. shift.

"I like being here early," Rust said. "I just like coming here."

Rust, a man of few words, simply liked to talk and be around co-workers while they prepared for the breakfast rush.

Then, he'd wash dishes for several hours. Then, the nearly two-hour trek back home.

"He busts his butt," Josiah's marketing manager Marissa Schroeder told Dakota News Now.

"He's never been the type to be, like, 'I can't work. This is happening to me. I can't do this.' He's just been the type to get in, get through his shift, work his butt off, and then go home."

Some days, Schroeder appeared to be in pain, or in a melancholy mood.

"Other days, there were visible injuries, you know, cuts, bruises," Schroeder said.

"We would ask him what happened (and he'd say), 'Well, I was hit by a car or a truck.'"

That happened in the last couple years.

More often, the commute would take a toll on Rust's bikes. The back tire kept popping on his most recent two-wheeler.

He'd keep taking it in to get fixed. In the meantime, he'd get rides from co-workers.

The last time the back tire popped, he walked all the way in from 12th and Western, about 1.5 miles, instead of telling anyone.

"I just finally gave up and prayed that somebody would finally get me a new bike," Rust said.

But Rush kept that prayer to himself. He never asked for a new bike. He always showed up, no matter what. Didn't say a thing. Just went to work.

"He's not big on help," Schroeder said, adding that she and her boyfriend sometimes have to practically force Rust to join them for a night out for dinner — on them — or a meal at their house, just to show they cared.

"Even then, he would tell us, 'I don't want you guys to worry. Let me worry about you. I don't want you to worry about me.'"

But they would worry. So, when Rust's latest bike busted and forced him to once again get rides from co-workers, Schroeder and Josiah's kitchen managers decided enough was enough.

They were going to show up for him.

Schroeder sent out a group text every employee about their campaign to buy Rust a new electric bike.

"Obviously, no pressure," the text read, "but all of us have had some type of an impact on Alex. He's had an impact on all of us."

Within a day-and-a-half, they had raised $765 — more than enough to cover the expense of an electric bike.

"That kind was incredible," Schroeder said. "I knew he was important to me, but it was cool to see what type of an impact he had on everyone else here, as well."

Once Josiah's owner Kibby McCormick found out about the fundraiser, she insisted that she pay for the bike and take the money raised by Josiah's staff to start a new savings account for Alex.

It was all kept a secret from Rust.

Schroeder and her boyfriend ordered the e-bike and kept it at their home. They decided last Wednesday would be the day to deliver it to Rust while he was in the middle of another shift.

With a cell phone video camera rolling, Schroeder went into the kitchen and asked Rust to come out to the counter, where the entire staff working at the time gathered.

"If you watch the video , he looks like he was in trouble about something," Schroeder said.

Little did he know a lot of his troubles were about to be wiped away, and his rides were about to get a whole lot smoother.

Schroeder's boyfriend rolled out the bike from the Josiah's managers' office, where it had been hidden.

The normally modest, stoic, and somewhat stubborn Rust immediately removed his glasses and started wiping tears from his eyes as the bike rolled closer to him.

"Excited, emotional," is how Rust described his reaction. "I was so happy I got a new bike and everybody helped out."

Schroeder said the scene was emotional for her — not just because she saw how much it meant to Rust.

The bike has both a horn and a headlight so vehicles can now see Rust in the dark morning hours on his way in.

"Now that he has a safer way to get to work, honestly, it makes me more happy and gives me a piece of mind," Schroeder said.

His commute has been trimmed from nearly two hours both ways to 15-20 minutes each way — over five times faster than before — allowing for over three more hours a day of newfound free time.

"It's fast," Rust said of the new commute in his understated fashion. "I don't have to get up to work at two in the morning anymore."

Asked how this change has affected his overall happiness, Rust laughed sheepishly and said, "all over."

"He's just been in such a better mood," Schroeder said. "It's not such a crabby Alex we get in the morning. It used to be he'd turn around by noon or 1 o'clock. Now, he's in a good mood from the get-go. So, it's been awesome."

Rust said that before he received his new bike, despite all the frustration and pain the long rides to work have put him through, he never thought about quitting his job at Josiah's. He liked it too much, and he liked his colleagues too much.

But, now, that bond is even stronger.

"I think, hopefully, now he understands that we're family, which means that families help out each other when we have our problems," Schroeder said.

The video of co-workers presenting Rust the bike has over 115,000 views on Josiah's Facebook page.

That fact only cemented what Schroeder said this whole story tells her.

"Kindness matters," Schroeder said. "The small things matter. We had some people donate just a couple bucks, but the movement itself just shows people are willing to help. You just have to find the right opportunity to help."