Life has made me such a job snob.
My mom is a hard-core RN, and I have always respected her for that. She works in a jail where she puts her life in danger every day to treat inmates who most likely don’t appreciate her efforts. She knows her profession front to back and back to front. She always goes into work when her subordinates call in, even if it just happens to be at 4 in the morning. I think the reason that she’s so phenomenal at her job is that she cares. That’s it. She cares so much about what she does for a living, and that is a rare thing to find these days. But don’t get me wrong—she’s a no-shit taker, too.
I think watching my mom excell in a very difficult line of work—along with four years of college, five internships and two degrees—has influenced the way I look at work. I chose a career that I could be passionate about because I saw her do the same. And now that choice has come back to bite me in the ass because every major magazine and newspaper is cutting jobs. Hence, my lack of direction in career, goals, life, etc.
I started a new office job, and I was painfully unstimulated for most of my first day. But right about the time I was preparing to slit my wrists with plastic knife I found in the breakroom, something told me to lift my head. I stood up and observed all the hardworking people in their cubicles, their view of the world blocked by depressingly oatmeal colored walls, and I witnessed something amazing. They come to their jobs every day, determined to make a living for themselves and for their families, and they don’t complain.
I can’t even count how many “Good morning“‘s I got today—on a Monday of all days—from people who didn’t even know me. It seems like a simple thing, but it meant a lot to me, especially on my first day.
Even though this is not the high-pressure, exciting world of publishing, I think that this job may have something to teach me after all. And if not, it will at least enable me to save enough money to travel abroad again. I’m thinking Chile or Peru this time.I can’t seem to squash the dreamer in me, and that’s the little girl that drags my ass out of bed every morning.
Until then, I’ve got this little spot in the ‘real world,’ so I’m going to thumbtack some pictures of me and my loves to that oatmeal-shaded wall.
