Back in high school, I took a summer job I didn’t want at a now-defunct national retailer (not my fault). That’s where I met Euphontus, an immigrant from Kenya. Upon meeting Euphontus, I immediately noticed his huge, genuine smile and friendly manner as he restocked pesticides in the garden department. I also noticed, but tried to hide that I noticed, his extremely deformed skull. Later, I learned it was deformed as a result of a machete attack he’d survived as a child. The American dream of homeownership? Not on the radar. His goals were more basic: a safe place to sleep and an education for his daughter. He taught me perspective and gratitude during the few months we got to know each other. I once gave him a ride to the DMV. I sure gained from that trade.

Later, when I was at Metro State in Denver, an open-enrollment commuter school like Weber State, I worked part time at a quick-service restaurant as a cashier and server. That’s where I met María, from Aguascalientes, Mexico. She worked full time and then some, keeping her family afloat. She was a much better worker than I was. We worked the same shifts, dealt with the same lousy customers and helped each other get through long nights. She didn’t complain or try to impress anyone, but rather happily recalled anecdotes related to her son’s football feats while working her tail off. She even nursed me through a couple of hangovers while making sure the moral of my hangover experience wasn’t lost on me. What a caring person.

She also taught me something else, something I didn’t expect. Essentially, María showed me the value of a certain kind of conservatism I hadn’t previously accepted: I was more like an uninformed progressive ideologue at that stage of life. María didn’t display the cartoonish version of conservatism imagined by its loudest enemies or its worst practitioners, but a lived, everyday form rooted in family, faith, discipline and quiet resilience. The type of conservatism on which our liberal American values rest.

We both loved “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. María loaned me her Spanish copy. Then one day, she and her family were gone. No goodbye. No forwarding address. In a sense, “The Alchemist” serves as a record of our friendship.

It’s always struck me that wherever María and her family went, she didn’t have the benefit of more concrete records, like an employment history that surely would’ve landed her a management position. Our system robs her of her very human capital. I can only assume high school football records are similarly hidden away.

I don’t have the space to mention the tens, if not hundreds, of immigrants who have directly benefited me throughout my upbringing, education and career, including several I currently count among my closest friends and colleagues. Of course, I cannot even begin to mention the millions of immigrants who have indirectly benefited me through the spontaneous order that is the American economic universe. Euphontus and María represent the types of immigrants who are either ridiculed or only complimented as members of groups: “They’re the only ones who will take those jobs.” They are so much more than that, so they deserve a shoutout.

One primary moral of “The Alchemist” is that the treasure we’re seeking may be found right where we started. Euphontus and María are part of the treasure that started my journey.

Gavin Roberts is an associate professor of economics and chair of the economics department at Weber State University. He is a recipient of the Gordon Tullock Prize from the Public Choice Society and regularly shares his research locally, nationally and internationally. This commentary is provided through a partnership with Weber State. The views expressed by the author do not necessarily represent the institutional values or positions of the university.