Hard work has always been a staple of human survival and has been seen as a positive characteristic, but our generation seems to be lacking in it. Our generation of young people have conjured up the idea of living a lavish lifestyle with the fancy cars, wads of cash, and the beautiful house without lifting a finger. We spend time pinning our dream life on a Pinterest board instead of clocking in to work to actually save money that could be put towards those dreams.
I know not everyone was raised with a silver spoon in their mouth and everything handed them, but sometimes we (I myself am guilty of this) feel entitled to things. My parents used to tell me that all I was owed were some clothes on my body, some food in my stomach, and a roof over my head. Anything else was grace. Granted, they have blessed me with so much far beyond what I deserve and I couldn't be more thankful. But, as I get older, I realize just a glimpse of the hard work my parents went through to provide for my little sisters and I. It was no walk in the park.
Many of us don't have the luxury of complete and utter comfort, financially, but if you do, what a blessing. I am thankful for my meager background. I am thankful that my parents didn't spoil me to a ridiculous extent, that I had to work for desires of mine that weren't necessities, and taught me that things are more precious when worked for. It taught me a lot about the faulty idea of hard work my generation had created, what other generations have experienced, and the benefits of it both physically and ethically.
I spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college in a local factory in my hometown. I was absolutely dreading it, but I had to pay for the amazing education I was getting at Saint Mary's. Loans, scholarships, and grants could only cover so much. I worked 10 hour shifts from 4:30 a.m. until 3:00 p.m. totaling almost 60 hours a week.
Now, I'm not asking for pity or anything along those lines, I just wanted to give you all the idea of what some strong, hardworking individuals have been doing for upwards of 25 years. They are some of the most humble, kind, and genuine people I have ever met. They stick through the years of scoldings, of aching legs and feet from standing for hours, and long hours of overtime either to provide for their family or just to survive. It's not pretty work, but it's a job.
I was talking to an older who that came in at the end of my shift to set up for the next one. He had been working there for 30 some years after being a farmer for many before that. He had talked about how hard work and jobs like these were common a while back. He was shocked at the number of kids he had seen come and go through the shop whether it be for a few days or a few months. He told me no one wants to work anymore and I agreed. And I know that that statement doesn't stand for everyone, but it's true for an overwhelming number of our generation. We want to have jobs that are easy, pay out well, and are enjoyable. Few have the privilege of checking all three, but, for the rest of us, a job is a job. We can enjoy it, but that wont mean it's easy and vice versa.
I can admit there were mornings when my alarm went off at 3:20 a.m. that I wanted to quit, but I knew why I was getting up and working. I was providing for my education. I realized I wasn't owed anything. If I wanted it, I had to work for it. It's as simple as that. I complained, took numerous showers to rinse off the grease, and slept as much as I could. Even though I completely hated it for a good portion of the summer, looking back, I don't regret that experience for an instance. It taught me a lot about myself and others around me. It exposed my weaknesses and "built character" (as my high school literature teacher would tell us).
I believe that every teen my age should spend a summer in a factory just once in their lifetime. Not only will you make money, but you will come out a stronger individual who has discipline and steadfast will. It's worth the tears and aches if it means a lifetime of respect and thankfulness for the things we are given.
