Importance of Work

I was a fucking lazy teenager. I can see that now. I have always been highly idealistic, but at least now I am a competent human being as well. I can get away with dreaming because at least now I am capable of doing the simple groundwork chores…

When I was a teenager I wasn’t neat, I didn’t help out in the household, I hated any kind of physical work. I was even lazy when playing sports. Maybe it’s something in my constitution that makes me this way, but thankfully I have come through the other side. Some people may look at the way I have lived the last couple of years and say I am faffing about. I started college when I was 19 and got my first proper job at a fruit and veg shop around the same time (I had worked sporadically as a food-runner and event volunteer previously). That job at the fruit and veg shop ended up taking up more of my life than college, at times. Before the semester began, I worked three plus shifts a week. I left college early on Fridays to cycle the 12km back to my neighbourhood to work, then worked weekends too. During December and January I worked four or more shifts a week (yeah that’s when the neglect for the course itself began…).

The experience at that job taught me so much and built me up to a much better version of myself than ever before. It’s surprising to me that a simple minimum wage job can have such a transformative impact, but it really can. In particular I learned how to work hard. Although the pay was below 10 per hour, it was expected of you to be on-the-go every second of your six hour shift. Whether stocking shelves, manning the till, cleaning the fridge, sweeping the floor, unpacking the delivery, delivering an order etc. etc. You were worked hard. The job was fun, the colleagues were lovely, Having free reign over spotify was awesome and feeling a sense of community connection was beautiful. However, I won’t deny, it really could be exhausting. Especially for me, a recent graduate of a slothful adolescence.

I admit, I was quite woeful at the start. Clueless, in fact. I didn’t know what to do. I hardly knew how to mop a floor. It took me a while to get the knack of using the till (while simultaneously balancing the art of appropriately-friendly customer service). I was shy, awkward and abysmally clumsy during my first few shifts. I made stupid mistakes (charging someone 2.50 for a newspaper which had printed on it 1.50, bringing browning bananas and yellowing cabbage to the local care home, dropping broccoli all over the floor…etc) I ended up smelling permanently of vegetable sweat, was covered in bruises and became a timid dweeb in front of senior colleagues and my boss. However, I overcame all of it.

I eventually learned almost everything you needed to know about running that shop. A few months later I was trusted enough to take the order, count and stow away the money and lock up the shop at the end of every shift. I mastered the art of being appropriately-friendly while managing the till – I knew every knack to the bleeping thing too! I was no longer shy, no longer clumsy (welllll, most of the time). I didn’t do silly things like putting melons on top of plums in the store room. I had cleaned every crack and crevice at some stage or the other, tasted most of the products, knew all the local faces. It was genuinely exciting to be witness to the renovations of the shop. During my time, the coffee-counter and snack-bar was installed. The staff became like family, all the hugs and smiles and jokes and chats. After I became an actual decent worker, I felt I could be more free to have a little fun. I made funny signs for the produce (‘buy these garlics to keep the vampires away!’) and took to craftiness when things broke (mending a dustpan with twine). I could play the music I liked and be a bit silly, especially on a quiet Sunday. I especially liked to draw faces on the expiring vegetables with a permanent marker …! I guess you could say I felt somewhat at home working there.

So reflecting back, I realise how much of a formative experience it was. Engaging in work multiple times a week literally makes you a more competent person. You don’t just know the value of working hard, you get used to the feeling of sweating for the paycheck. You know how to multitask, how to take initiative, how to have physical stamina – and in my case, be more deft and less clumsy. I learned how to commit to things. If you are on the roster for a Saturday morning shift and you wake up dreading to leave the bed, you cannot just cancel your shift. You have to schedule your own time and show up for work, on time, without fail. I gained a lot of confidence. It felt good to be good at my job. It felt good to be trusted with certain responsibilities. It felt good to be part of a community. And I won’t lie, having that bit of money to spend on myself, that gave me a new taste of freedom too. (Even though I spent it mostly on shite)

Since my time at the shop I have tasted work as a farmhand – which really taught me how to work physically hard. Instilling with me with more diligence, discipline and stamina. I worked in commercial kitchens, just going through that mundane routine of clearing tables, loading the industrial-sized dishwasher, drying and putting things away. I ended up cleaning bathrooms, making beds, chopping wood, minding babies and doing all sorts of things. I worked for one month, full-time in a community cafe in West Cork. Now I work full-time as a nanny where I prepare food, clean the kitchen, do laundry and household chores while also collecting kids, helping with homework and other various child-minding duties.

Over the past year and a bit I have transformed enormously and now I realise what I can attribute my transformation to. Work. Working in these various ‘low-level’ jobs has built me up into a new person, almost. So I reiterate, while many folk look at me and think I am wasting my time working in these low level jobs, I am absolutely not. I have gained something extremely valuable in this period of ‘faffing around’. I have actually become competent. That competence has infused itself into all aspects of my life. I am now a more organised and tidy person, my room is neat and even my handwriting has improved. I think more clearly. I find household chores are not a bother. I feel stronger, more capable, more adaptable to all situations. I feel I can be useful to people wherever I go, even if it just means washing their dishes (I am more likely to do a kind deed). I am much better with children now. I am better at ‘adults’ too…! Haha. Probably more mature, not too much! I have become a more confident and less lazy person.

Next year I will likely return to higher education. I am lucky I have this experience of work behind me. I know I will be a much better student this time around. Also, isn’t it a shame that there are students out there who occupy themselves with all this higher-thinking, but can’t even make their bed or cook healthy meals for themselves or be arsed to do laundry. Isn’t it a shame that many students from privileged backgrounds like me, can walk straight from womb to school to polished career, without ever having experienced what so many working-class people have to live through all their lives – fucking hard work. I think it’s a shame. Obviously I am in no position to look down on such people, but I really do think it is a little pathetic and even a bit ironic that so many higher-thinking people aren’t even capable of surviving low-level work. Call me old fashioned, but I really think exposure to good, hard, physically-demanding work is essential to competence as a human being.

Or maybe I just needed a kick up the backside…!

Let me know what you think!