I've been working since I was in elementary school. I believe it started with simple chores.
When I was bored and none of my friends were around to play, I would beg to rake the yard. I'm not sure why I did this, but I probably liked the mundane activity of sweeping up the mess that was a leaf filled yard. This could also have been another indicator of the OCD that sometimes plagues my life in the form of what I call "quirks". Another was when I was in shopping lines and I would organize all of the candy in to their proper slots and in to nice pretty rows. The disorganization of that just drove me insane.
By the age of 5, I would actually go to my friends houses and help them clean. I couldn't believe they would be okay with toys on the floor and a closet that wasn't perfectly organized. Not only were there jeans not all folded in the same direction, but they weren't even all in the same location. There were t-shirts mixed in there for instance. Shenanigans.
By 1st grade, my step brother and I were given chores to do while our parents were out. I did them all because he hated cleaning and I was a perfectionist. It all had to be done correctly and for some reason there was satisfaction in making the bathroom sparkle the way it hadn't before.
By the time I was 12, I was kind of rich. I had a lawn business, cleaning business and baby-sitting business. Yes, people were letting me watch their infants by the time I was ten. This not only showed how responsible I was, but how stupid the parents were. This was the year I lost all of my riches to the Xena obsession of comics, toys, trading cards and even magazines.
Since then I've had many jobs, military, waitress, waitress at Waffle House, UPS loader, Michael's Warehouse (packer?) and many others. All of these jobs were things I knew I wouldn't do forever, but I did them and I continued on with my life. It still fascinated me to see the different types of people in each position.
First, you have career military individuals. Since I joined at 17, went to basic training and then went back to high school for my senior year, I'm obviously going to have a different perspective than these people. While being asked by Drill Sgt's, officers and various other people at basic, "Why did you join?" my answers were never quite good enough for my fellow soldiers. The answer was always "college." Their answers were always "to serve my country" and other various bullshit I never believed because these was prior to 9/11. My real answers were not only college, but also I wanted to see if I could get through basic training and I was told I could get a top secret security clearance. A few of them probably really loved their country and wanted to serve, most of them probably had no idea what else they would do with their lives or also wanted to go to college for free.
Working at places like Waffle House and Michael's made me feel a lot more depressed for my fellow co-workers. I was a little embarrassed to start working at Waffle House for various reasons anyone could imagine. So I took their stupid little tie that I was supposed to make in to a bow and gave it a classic tie knot, then I went to work. I knew I was only there for the summer, so it was easy to get through. While it made me sad for my co-workers to make no money at a shitty job, this was probably my own issues. My brother for instance was a cook there at one point and loved it.
While working at Micheal's, which was also just a job I picked up for the summer, I looked around very hard. I was in college just taking a vacation for the summer. I never liked being out of work, even for a few weeks so I was there. Not one person looked happy, except perhaps my dad during lunch breaks. He is retired from the Air Force and works for a second retirement. Everyone walked around as if they were shadows that could lift things such as items in to boxes and then the actual boxes. Some of them even looked angry, which I never asked why.
It made me wonder about people, "What did they actually want to be when they were children?" I wanted to be a doctor, but that was just because my family wanted new cars. Eventually I wanted to be an actress, but then I realized, I just wanted the attention of becoming one and not worth it.
We all need money to live. We all need to survive. Someone needs to fill those fries and flip those burgers at McDonald's. Someone needs to answer the phones in the UNF Math Department (me for now).
We are all just cogs in the machine, owned by the man.
I guess there must be a way to feel fulfilled while working in these jobs that we need to get by though. Otherwise we're just living our lives day to day just waiting to die. Then again, some people like doing mundane tasks that allow them to work 8 hour days and then go home and forget everything that just happened.
Someone is probably sad for right now because I choose to spend my time writing blogs for people, about myself that really make no difference at all. Perspective.
When I was bored and none of my friends were around to play, I would beg to rake the yard. I'm not sure why I did this, but I probably liked the mundane activity of sweeping up the mess that was a leaf filled yard. This could also have been another indicator of the OCD that sometimes plagues my life in the form of what I call "quirks". Another was when I was in shopping lines and I would organize all of the candy in to their proper slots and in to nice pretty rows. The disorganization of that just drove me insane.
By the age of 5, I would actually go to my friends houses and help them clean. I couldn't believe they would be okay with toys on the floor and a closet that wasn't perfectly organized. Not only were there jeans not all folded in the same direction, but they weren't even all in the same location. There were t-shirts mixed in there for instance. Shenanigans.
By 1st grade, my step brother and I were given chores to do while our parents were out. I did them all because he hated cleaning and I was a perfectionist. It all had to be done correctly and for some reason there was satisfaction in making the bathroom sparkle the way it hadn't before.
By the time I was 12, I was kind of rich. I had a lawn business, cleaning business and baby-sitting business. Yes, people were letting me watch their infants by the time I was ten. This not only showed how responsible I was, but how stupid the parents were. This was the year I lost all of my riches to the Xena obsession of comics, toys, trading cards and even magazines.
First, you have career military individuals. Since I joined at 17, went to basic training and then went back to high school for my senior year, I'm obviously going to have a different perspective than these people. While being asked by Drill Sgt's, officers and various other people at basic, "Why did you join?" my answers were never quite good enough for my fellow soldiers. The answer was always "college." Their answers were always "to serve my country" and other various bullshit I never believed because these was prior to 9/11. My real answers were not only college, but also I wanted to see if I could get through basic training and I was told I could get a top secret security clearance. A few of them probably really loved their country and wanted to serve, most of them probably had no idea what else they would do with their lives or also wanted to go to college for free.
Working at places like Waffle House and Michael's made me feel a lot more depressed for my fellow co-workers. I was a little embarrassed to start working at Waffle House for various reasons anyone could imagine. So I took their stupid little tie that I was supposed to make in to a bow and gave it a classic tie knot, then I went to work. I knew I was only there for the summer, so it was easy to get through. While it made me sad for my co-workers to make no money at a shitty job, this was probably my own issues. My brother for instance was a cook there at one point and loved it.
While working at Micheal's, which was also just a job I picked up for the summer, I looked around very hard. I was in college just taking a vacation for the summer. I never liked being out of work, even for a few weeks so I was there. Not one person looked happy, except perhaps my dad during lunch breaks. He is retired from the Air Force and works for a second retirement. Everyone walked around as if they were shadows that could lift things such as items in to boxes and then the actual boxes. Some of them even looked angry, which I never asked why.
It made me wonder about people, "What did they actually want to be when they were children?" I wanted to be a doctor, but that was just because my family wanted new cars. Eventually I wanted to be an actress, but then I realized, I just wanted the attention of becoming one and not worth it.
We all need money to live. We all need to survive. Someone needs to fill those fries and flip those burgers at McDonald's. Someone needs to answer the phones in the UNF Math Department (me for now).
We are all just cogs in the machine, owned by the man.
I guess there must be a way to feel fulfilled while working in these jobs that we need to get by though. Otherwise we're just living our lives day to day just waiting to die. Then again, some people like doing mundane tasks that allow them to work 8 hour days and then go home and forget everything that just happened.
Someone is probably sad for right now because I choose to spend my time writing blogs for people, about myself that really make no difference at all. Perspective.
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