I remember being excited to have a driver’s license. But not for the same reason as the other kids. Unfortunately, I just moved to a new town when I turned 16, so I didn’t have friends. No parties to attend.
No, I was excited to drive because I could go to work.
That fall, I ended up getting three jobs. I would leave school for the daycare where I would work from 2:30 to 6. Then, I would head to the mall for my retail job from 7 to 11. On weekends, I worked at the front desk of a friend’s hair salon. I didn’t care how much money I made or what I would do; I just wanted to work.
Work was an escape and sinkhole for me. I loved that I had somewhere to be, but I buried myself in work. I wanted to make money. Money was independence and the ability to make my own choices.
No 16-year-old should have that much money. 16-year-olds make terrible decisions without supervision. See my fake ID years.
To this day, I think those formative years had a big impression on how I view and apply myself to work today. It is an outlet for my anxiety. It’s where I prove how good I am at being good. That’s why this article, “If you’re so successful why are you working 70 hours a week” hit me like a ton of bricks. I imagine some of you might feel it too.
I also had a little fun on my blog this week with my first satiric job post: The World’s Most Honest Job Post. After looking at all the bad ones, this was an emotional release.
Finally a post from my friend Kristina Minyard about a conversation that we need to have, now. One I wish I had all those years ago when I started work.