Picture this:
It's a cold, dark evening. I'm sitting at the computer, trying to write something meaningful and life altering that will gain me the admiration of my peers.
It's not working.
Try as I might, all I can think of is my night at work. Waitressing is not the most glamorous of professions and I have to admit, I hate going to work. Hours on your feet rushing around, serving nice people, mean people, beautiful people, smelly people and the people with that really annoying nasally voice that just makes you want to scream....
Talking, chatting, squabbling, complaining, crying; noise...so much noise. By the end of the night your brain, ears, eyes and feet are sore and your tired of the human race and just want to sleep.
All of this unpleasantness for $7 an hour.
Why go through this same routine every week? Why drag my feet and tie down my spirit? Why oh why must I smile at that lady that comes in every week to complain about our soup?
I ask myself these questions and more on my drives home as I debate, after every shift, whether or not to become a homeless hippie that eats grass and doesn't have to work any more.
The answer I invariably come to is that I need the money. I want the money. Money makes me feel good because it gets me stuff; and everybody likes stuff....right?
More money means bigger stuff, more stuff, shinier stuff and better stuff. And stuff means happiness. At least that's what my good friend the T.V tells me all the time. Nothing like the advice of a good friend to illuminate the path to fulfillment.
Why do I go to this horrible job? To make money to pay for university to get a better job to get more money to get more STUFF.
That's just depressing.
But wait just a minute. That can't be all there is to life. Granted, I like having a warm place to live and the money does help with that. But is that all? Is all I get for those 8 hours of my life $56 (before tax)?
No.
I like to think that, as I'm smiling at the elderly lady that comes in every week and complains about the same annoying things, I'm not just making that $7 an hour, I'm learning a skill.
She's teaching me patience.
Washing dishes teaches me humility. Service teaches me empathy. Seeing that couple fight makes me grateful for my family life. I'm not just getting more money, the money is almost a bonus. I'm getting hard core spiritual betterment. Every miserable moment working makes me a better person.
I guess that makes it all worth it.
Now I fell better.
Even if work does suck:)
1 comment:
Ah, but according to my dad all that hateful work builds character. Just think of how little money we would need if we didn't all want the 'stuff'.
I think its great that you do see the value in the experience you are gaining and how no task, no matter how mundane, has to be a waste of time. By recording these thoughts you have helped improve many attitudes by offering an alternative to their negative perspective.
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