The other day, I went down a storm drain. Literally. Eight feet down into a dark, wet, sludge-filled storm sewer.

Why, you ask?  Because a good friend accidently dropped his cell phone into it.

Yes, it slipped right through the large opening of a storm drain, plopped onto the layer of gooey wet dirt at the bottom, and just sat there—like a forgotten treasure in a grimy underworld. The only thing missing was a Ninja Turtle.

Naturally, retrieving it became a mission. A maintenance worker happened to be nearby and offered to help. He had this special tool—kind of like a crowbar on steroids—to lift the manhole cover, which was a feat in itself. I had never fully appreciated the sheer size and weight of one of those cast-iron discs before. It’s basically a medieval shield guarding the entrance to the underbelly of the city.

(Quick sidebar: the average manhole cover weighs between 90 and 150 pounds. And there’s a reason they’re round—because a round cover can’t accidentally fall through its own opening, unlike a square one. Clever, right?)

Once opened, we all peered down into the black hole. There it was. The phone. Glimmering slightly, nestled on a bed of sludge. Not easily accessible, and certainly not calling out, “Pick me up!” My friend looked at me, I looked at him, and… I volunteered. Someone had to go in.

I climbed down four steel rungs—carefully, slowly—and landed about a foot above the sludge. Armed with a shovel (and a generous dose of misplaced optimism), after several tries I was able to scoop up the phone, now lovingly coated in sewer gunk, and passed it back up. Victory. Sort of.

Now here’s where it gets interesting: at one point in my life, I was actually in charge of the sewer system for the entire Seattle metropolitan area.  Here is one of our wastewater treatment plants. Yes, you read that right. I was the CEO of one of the largest wastewater treatment and sewer infrastructure systems in the country, serving several million people. That might surprise you. It surprises me too sometimes. In fact, I don’t think I’ve mentioned it in years. It’s not even on my resume. But when I found myself eight feet down in a storm drain, ankle-deep in sludge, I thought: well, maybe the universe just wanted to remind me of my roots.

It got me thinking. There’s actually a lot to reflect on when you’re below street level. Like:

1. When a friend’s in trouble, you step up—or in this case, down. Friendship sometimes means doing the messy stuff. And not metaphorically.
2. Be prepared. Life is full of unexpected drains—literal and figurative. You might not always have a sewer shovel handy, but a good attitude and some steel-rung grit will do.
3. We’re walking over a hidden world. The infrastructure beneath our cities and communities is massive, essential, and pretty fascinating. It’s like an invisible city under our feet. In fact, the earliest organized sewer systems go all the way back to ancient Mesopotamia around 4,000 years ago. And in Rome, they had the Cloaca Maxima, one of the oldest surviving drainage systems in the world—still partially in use!
4. Sometimes you have to get dirty to do something good. There’s no shortcut around it. Whether it’s fixing a problem, helping a friend, or recovering something lost—getting messy might just be part of the deal.
5. Phones are durable. Seriously. This one survived a storm drain. If it doesn’t end up in a commercial for waterproof cases, it should.
6. Everyday heroes wear old sneakers. No cape. No utility belt. Just someone willing to descend into the unknown for a good cause. (Okay, it was just a phone. But still.)

So next time you walk over a manhole cover or a storm grate, maybe give it a little nod. Beneath that round metal lid lies history, engineering genius, and possibly someone’s iPhone. And if you ever find yourself in a sewer, try to bring a shovel—and maybe a former sewer CEO.

And no, I didn’t keep the shovel. But I’m starting to think it might be time to put “sewer experience” back on the résumé.