The past few days have been a blur for me. Today was co-worker’s retirement party, one I had been in charge of planning for the past month and a half. The hectic scramble of trying to get everything taken care of (my boss is very detail-oriented) and combined with work has had me a little drained. I think it’s finally starting to hit me how tired I am. And you know it doesn’t take much to make me exhausted.
The effort was worth it, as the co-worker had over 35 years with my company and was highly respected. When I first began working there, he was my first supervisor, and I will have very fond memories of him. The party went swimmingly, if do say so myself, and everyone had a good time.
Thirty-five years is a long time to be with one company. Hell, nowadays when I tell folks I’ve been there 8 years myself, they’re pleasantly amazed. When I began, I had no idea how long I would be there or how much of an impact it would have on my life. I applied for the job only a month or so after graduating college, with the impression that it would be a part-time gig while I attended graduate school. It was when I arrived for the interview I was quickly informed that this was a full-time, 40-hour position.
In my naivety, I prayed over the next couple of days not to get it. I hoped the phone wouldn’t ring, cause honestly, I was enjoying my freedom of being a undergrad, not having to wake up before 10 a.m., rolling out of bed, going to class and hanging out with my friends. Working an 8 to 5 was not in my vocabulary – or in my blood. The jobs I did have when I was in college were just enough to pay my eating out and miscellaneous items, nothing too major.
When the phone rang about weeks later, I knew I had gotten it. And because I needed the experience and could use the money to support my after-hour activities, I took it.
The job wasn’t all that strenuous. In fact, there were days I could finish a book or surf the Internet to my heart’s content (boy, how times have changed). The work was cyclic, meaning certain times of the month meant more work. There were days I was really busy, and some days where I didn’t have thing to do. At first, I didn’t like the repetitiveness of it. There were a couple days I shed a tear in the restroom thinking, I can’t stand this. But I knew there was a reason I was there.
Being one of the first of my friends to have a regular, full-time job (most of us delayed the inevitable) was the catalyst to my growing up. I learned, and still am, about people, the responsibility and having to support myself. I can honestly say the job I never wanted was the job I was meant to have. Since then, I’ve gotten a few promotions and proved how much I could accomplish.
Reading Alix’s post about Sweet Hill made me think of time when I pondered becoming a housewife, being taken care of by some stud and birthing babies. Now, I can’t even imagine. I would have been bored out of my mind.
Working everyday taught me that.