Everyone goes through jobs they hate before they can get to the ones they enjoy the most.

I've had four different jobs since I've turned sixteen. My first job was as a swimming instructor. I had a love/hate relationship with it. Why you ask? I loved it because I love the water. I love swimming around and just being able to float and relax. I hated it for the simple fact that I've never been a huge fan of children. For some reason, trying to teach children ages four and up how to swim was agonizing pain. I eventually left my job as a swimming instructor and moved onto the next.

I found out from a friend that the Reading Fightin Phil's were having a job fair. I decided I'd go apply considering that baseball is my favorite sport. I went and applied and got asked to come back for an interview. I had the most pleasant interview process, and I felt confident when I left. I was offered a position in concessions. I can admit that I have had a rocky journey through my three seasons at the stadium, but I had the privilege of working for great supervisors and a completely understanding front office staff. This is my third season working for the stadium and I love my job.

While at the stadium for my first year, I also worked at a restaurant. It was an okay job, average. I worked there for a year and was completely upset with my job towards the end. I was constantly being yelled at and being told what to do. I got to the point that I loathed going to work. I was tired of doing so much for not only myself, but my lazy coworkers. I was terrorized by a cranky older woman that worked there. She yelled at everyone, and if she didn't like you, you'd know it. I eventually decided to leave my position there because it was just all negatives, and no positives.

Now, the job I loathed every day since I was hired was for a BBQ pit. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. I had met many employees in the nine months I was employed, including new owners, employees that quit, some that were fired, and some that just didn't care. The GM was a horrifically sarcastic man, and wanted to pick on me all the time. I always thought to myself "why would a 40 something year old man want to pick on me?" The restaurant was all of my least favorite things wrapped into one: customer service, answering phones, touching raw meat, grease, and smelling like hickory. Every time I'd go to work, it'd get progressively worse, and my hatred would grow inside me. I had put up with all of it, and was hiding everything inside, faking a smile whenever I clocked in. It had gotten so bad that one day I just realized I couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to quit, I wanted to run away. So, I did what any person would do and decided "what makes me happy? Am I really going to work in food service the rest of my life?" So, with help from my favorite manager and friends, I quit. I didn't show up the next day, and it felt like I had gotten a piece of my happiness and life back.

"Quitters never win and winners never quit." If you aren't happy, don't put up with it. You're so much better than being treated like a lackey. Your happiness is what matters most. Quitters are probably happier than winners anyway.