A Kid Gets Familiar with Work
In some form or other, I’ve been working since elementary school.
No, I didn’t work under horrible conditions in a mine, exposed to poisonous chemicals, or picking berries in a field, nor did I stitch together clothes for wealthy westerners who wanted cheap tee shirts on which to print the names of their favorite sports teams.
The western approach to work since the abolition of child labor and general conformity with this abolition (I say general because major car companies still find subcontractors who use child labor in the US) means that the only way to introduce the concept of work is through odd jobs or extremely low paying work otherwise unwanted by adults.
I had serious experience working as a kid. The kind of experience that should have taught me patience and stick-to-it-iveness but merely showed me that most work is just about the exchange of labor for money. There was, from those early jobs, no more important lesson.
Where I grew up in Washington, DC, was like the suburbs. I remember a lot about summers in the neighborhood. Tennis camp, the Fourth of July parade, and the neighborhood pool — provided a sense of freedom and security. There was consistency there, a feeling that things would be okay if I kept going forward.
The summers were hot. Washington’s heat and humidity put sweat on brows and made shirts cling to backs. But as a kid, I didn’t blink as I stared into the intensity of a hot day. It didn’t bother me a bit. I reveled in sweating all day, spending time in the sun and hitting the water, waiting out the afternoon thunderstorm to swim some more.
During those young summers, I had my first encounter with what could be termed work. It’s hard to call caring for an animal while a family goes away for a weekend work. But nowadays, some people build businesses out of it. Back then, there was no such thing. Or rather, most people preferred getting someone they knew, someone in the neighborhood,d to take on pet or plant-care responsibility.
Those were experiences obtained through word of mouth. I didn’t have to put an ad in the local newspaper. This was the nepotism highway. I got the keys to someone’s house because my mom or dad knew that person. There wasn’t an interview process to see whether I was competent. No, these people assumed I had the chops to walk their dog, feed their cat, and take out the trash.
Mind you, I didn’t do any of those things at home. Okay, maybe occasionally, but not regularly. Still, my parents told me that I could handle these jobs. Sure, they’d go with me to the houses because, even then, I wasn’t strictly used to being on my own without supervision. Maybe a movie here or there with my buddies, but not a whole house. Taking care of a home was a lot of responsibility.
Because pet or plant care wasn’t just about that but also about minding the house. When I went in, I picked up the mail that had been delivered and put it in a box next to the door. I checked around to ensure there wasn’t a broken window or other damage.
At the time, I wasn’t in a work mindset. I wasn’t trying to have a work mindset or get myself ready for a work mindset. I wanted a few bucks to go to the High’s to buy a Slush Puppy on my break from tennis camp.
My parents weren’t trying to put me in a work mindset, either. They were trying to put me in a responsible mindset. I think their attitude was if you agree to do something for someone else, you do it. Yes, money was involved. But the money wasn’t the point. The point was to teach me that I could be a reliable person who could do basic things even at a young age.
I could labor for money.
But soon, I would get a job, albeit part-time, that taught me the value of consistency and how important it was to show up, a job that was unlike anything any of my friends had at the time.
