Like most other high school and college-age students, I began this summer in frantic pursuit of a job. After an endless chain of online applications and impossible-to-format PDF files, I think it is very possible that I could recite my work history and skills while sleeping.

Hours of poring over resumes and job sites and applications resulted in the opportunity to work at a country club near my home. There was no particular reason why I picked this job over any other position. I don't own a car, so transportation would be a struggle no matter where I worked, and it's not like I have any particular interest in or knowledge of golfing. I simply assumed that, as a 19-year-old college sophomore, I should have steady employment.

I bought my khaki pants and polo shirts, packed a lunch, and watched Zach Efron's inspirational "Bet On It" scene from High School Musical 2.

Little did I know, I was about to pull a real "Troy Bolton" and quit my job after two days.

There was nothing wrong with the country club I worked at. Sure, getting a ride to work was a bit difficult, but in reality, it was an incredibly easy job - almost too easy.

Where was the challenge? The adventure? The purpose?

Halfway through my second shift, I realized that I could not spend the majority of my summer working at a golf course, and so I quit.

If accepting the job was an impulsive choice, then I don't know what to call quitting.

I had no other employment. Quitting meant that I would go back to meandering around my empty house all week. I claimed that I was looking for purpose, but how was I supposed to find it sitting on the couch?

I told my cousin that I could work on his dairy farm. This is not the first time I have earned a living milking cows. It is, in fact, one of the only ways I have ever earned money.

Farm work is hard work, and hard work is HARD! My farm paycheck is a fraction of what I made in only two days at the golf course. Last week, a cow kicked my leg so hard that I thought she broke it. The barn is hot, smelly and full of flies. My hair becomes grosser than I would like to describe, and my hands are stained yellow from the iodine we use to clean the cows before milking. In short, my job is crap. Literally.

Why is it, then, that at the end of every dirty, disgusting day I feel more accomplished and satisfied than I ever have at any other business?

It is because I know that I have done something good for the world. My cousin needs someone to help him on the farm, and I am always there to carry feed and herd cows and milk, which makes his life easier. Someone MUST milk those cows or we will have a serious issue on our hands, and when I do milk them, I know that a few days later some will enjoy a cool, refreshing beverage, courtesy of our hard work.

When I leave each evening and my cousin says, "Thank you", I know that I really have made the world a little better.

Quitting was crazy, but doing a mundane, unimportant, purposeless job just for a paycheck would have been even crazier.

What we do matters, so do something that matters.