Reflections about work and what that means

By JIM PURCELL

Does our work define who we are, how we see ourselves? Well, it shouldn't, but I think it can and often does....and it is a shame. I have known many wonderful people in my life who had very working class jobs; perhaps someone might have been a custodian, but they were a fine man or woman. They cared for their family and the community. They worked hard and made peoples' lives better for having known them. And, they were steady in their work and in their lives. No, I do not think it would be accurate to summarize this man or woman as simply a "custodian."

Photo by Jim Purcell

Meanwhile, some of the worst human beings I have known have enjoyed lofty titles at work...so many of them were elected at that. High title at work does not inform anyone about someone's character, or lack thereof, or their trustworthiness or their heart and generosity. If anything, our titles at work can be a mask that is worn, and one of those masks put on and taken off can be one of great splendor. The, when taken off, the very faulty man or woman beneath is in full view of their most truthful critic -- the man or woman in the mirror. 

Photo by Jim Purcell

No, a man or woman is not made more or less gentle by their profession. It is the content of their character that does that, and there is no salary afforded for those whose characters are better than others. I am writing in a dispassionate voice throughout this, my little diatribe. In my fairest estimation, I can say I am not the best nor the worst man I have ever met, but somewhere in between (with much company).

I began working at eight years old, and I suppose my first work duty titles were 'dishwasher' and 'pet store assistant.' I earned literally pocket change with my friend, Paul Fiquet, but it was some of the hardest money I have ever earned. I was made aware of muscles I never knew existed when I began working hard. My parents were OK with me working and Paul's was OK with it too. Like everything else with children, we worked for awhile and then it lost our attention and we were back to unemployed nine-year-olds like the rest of them.

Mostly, the work I did throughout my life was fun. I cannot imagine doing anything well that one does not essentially enjoy. There were times, though, when I was unfortunate enough to fall into jobs I did not like. In my travels, I guess the jobs I disliked (and was very poor at) included: stock clerk at a dollar store; security guard (there were times when sleep got the better of me); volunteer firefighter (upon doing it I found I had neither any talent or desire for it); military police officer (never was someone more wrong picked for that field); book store employee; party tent installer (yes, it is a real job and is as dreary as the title); nurse aide (now, there is a ferocious amount of gut-wrenching work); receptionist (just...bad); telemarketer (who does that for a living?); political campaign manager (it's like wrangling cats for a living); copy editor (I almost fell asleep editing other peoples' stories more than once); and bar tender (there is good and bad in it, but mostly there is a lot of work and a fair amount of politics).

Photo by Jim Purcell

The jobs I liked better were: soldier (every teen-aged and 20-something young man loves being a soldier); Army non-commissioned officer (the best job you'll ever love and hate at the same time); intelligence analyst (no comment); flea market manager (it's like running away and joining a circus that doesn't move); journalist (there is so much good and bad to it I have nowhere to begin); newspaper editor (interesting stuff); newspaper publisher (one might as well be a politician); blogger (lots of freedom and no money); and peer specialist, if you don't love helping people it will drive you to hate them through and through.

For a time, I was a clergyman...I do not know judge this time as good or bad. It was both, perhaps in equal portions if put on a scale.

Are the people that one meets at work the best thing about working? Maybe...I would not argue that point. I admit that, even the bad experiences I had with people have become brighter over time in my memory. My work people were among the best and worst I ever met. Now, staring into my own retirement more and more -- even the good experiences and the most wonderful memories make me tired. It occurs to me that my first work experiences were 43 years ago...a lifetime ago...maybe a few.

I cannot remember all of the moments, good or bad. For too many memories, I only remember that I once remembered them. I still have more than enough for a good old fashioned '80s montage if I thought about it enough, but why bother?

Photo by Jim Purcell

As retirement closes in on me, it is not with dread or immense joy that I look back at my work days -- it was a life I lived. There were so many moments in there that made me who I am today. And, I am grateful....for all of the good and for all of the bad, and for all of the in-between. I am tired, though, all the way through to my bones. I have given my time and what few talents God gave me to my jobs and that work life. On the whole, I am very satisfied with the effort, with some minor exceptions. Before I learned how to work smart, I found success in working hard and brutishly long. It could have saved me a few tanks of career gasoline if I had walked more gently through a few things. Yet, one should not try and nit pick themselves...because Monday morning quarterbacks don't produce many yards during game time.

Photo by Jim Purcell

I do wish I were younger and strong again. I think, as long as I could know everything I do now, I could be a lot better for work. But, once the miles are put on a car you cannot put it back in the showroom. It's closer to the junkyard than the showroom after many years.

This is where people are different. People go on, and are not cars. We do not go to a junkyard. If we retire then we have a rare opportunity to heal our bodies, minds and souls from the storm of our work lives. Retirement is the ending of one journey, but it can begin another one also -- one of self-discovery and real joy. All any of us have to do is be brave enough to take the journey and set a new course -- instead of staring vacantly into a television set while nursing a beer.

I look forward to staying up all night and listening to the rain now. I cannot wait until I lose weight and again try to coax my body back into good health. I will relish playing every vinyl record over and over, and I do look forward to staying in one place long enough to really know it as 'home.' I guess it is about time.