Labor Day is a day when most American workers have a day off
and spend it being thankful that we have a job, if we have one. Any power the day once held to fire up
a meaningful organized labor movement in the U.S. has long
been stripped away. For the vast majority of us, work is something we do
because we have to do something that makes money.
I’d love to be able to say that I’m an independently wealthy
writer who can generate income through the genius of every creative whim, but
the truth is I work in an office doing work that doesn’t really interest me. I
like being good at my job because I refuse to be a lazy slug and need to make a
living. But I’m working for The Man like everyone else.
I find it to be a benefit to have worked many different jobs
over the last two decades. I have been a grocery bagger, house painter, video
store assistant manager, immigration inspector, security guard, line cook,
telemarketer, retail sales clerk and financial journalist.
By far the job I hated the most was as the assistant manager
of a video store. This was in suburban Atlanta in the late 1990s when I was
living a miserable, impoverished life among the relative wealth and ease of the
Atlanta suburbs. Even though I love watching films and getting
to rent movies for free was a chief perk of the job, having to answer to the entitled
whims of overfed suburbanites grated on my nerves unmercifully. There were a
few very nice customers there, but I hated that job so much that when I saw a
bug skitter across the floor one night, I couldn’t bring myself to kill it. If
a bug can find happiness in this miserable place, then good for him.
Having worked a large variety of jobs has given me a lot of
different perspectives I otherwise would not have had. I like to think it shows
in my daily interactions with people. I was that awkward teenager pushing his
Dad’s lawnmower. I was the pimply kid behind the counter at McDonald’s on Labor Day. I was the unlucky
immigration inspector stamping passports on Christmas and getting stuck working
overtime.
Sometimes, even among very intelligent and good-natured
friends, it becomes startlingly clear those who haven’t worked many of these
jobs. The way someone treats a waitress or a bartender will tell you more about
their life and attitude than any online profile or paper trail.
There’s a missing value that hasn’t been instilled in much
of the population: that there is dignity in work, all work. Just because you
don’t like your job or don’t like the people you work with or have to serve
doesn’t mean you should feel comfortable behaving without dignity or purpose.
All working people have dignity and deserve respect. Working for a living is
beneath no one. And when you think about it, we are all a lot closer to the unemployment line
than we like to think we are.
It’s a wisdom I’ve come to more recently and wish that I had
had when I was bagging groceries and fielding the nonsensical complaints from
entitled suburbanites. I felt the anger and resentment that comes with being
treated like a servant. I let the opinion of others get to me, and it reflected
a low opinion I had of myself. But dignity is not anything that anyone can
grant you. If you’re in the right state of mind, you’ll have as much dignity
shining shoes as you will being a movie star.
This Labor Day, resolve to take dignity in whatever job you
do, and remember that no matter what the job is, everyone working for a living
deserves your respect.
Happy Labor Day.
