Do You Love Your Job? (tags #employment)
When is work a four-letter word? When I actually refer to it as "work" and not my job.
When I was a kid, my mother taught me never to say four-letter words. You know the ones I'm talking about: the F-bomb, the S-word, etc. Mom was raised as an aspirant to high-society. My grandmother went to (what I believe was) a private boarding school with the daughter of Oscar Mayer (yes, the hot-dog empire Oscar). So mom learned all about how to lay a table, how to throw a party, how to properly eat your dinner (no elbows on the table, left hand on your lap unless you're cutting food), etc. That included being polite and not cursing. So no four-letter words, thank you very much, or there would be heck to pay. I vaguely remember threats of washing mouths with soap, but it never came to pass.
Still, there it was.
Over the years the "four-letter word" mantra has become something of my own personal joke. "Mom taught me never to use four-letter words, so I can't be at work today." (Not that the boss ever buys that. @=) And yet, as I think of it, I've only ever had one job I truly hated. One job where it really was WORK, where I could not stand to come into the office day after day. That job lasted a week. I had to quit. I could literally feel my emotions atrophy, my sanity run screaming as I crossed the threshold, and the frustration and anger building each time I got on the phone.
There were jobs that I didn't like. Most of them when I was an hourly employee. But I never hated them. I knew they were work, but it didn't quite have the same impact as the 1-week event. I worked retail when I was in high school and college, and as the front of the company, got a lot of the complaints and hassles from the irate, hard-to-please customers. Because I still lived with the 'rents, my income was mostly discretionary. No rent, few bills. It was glorious. So when the boss tried to schedule me to work a holiday I didn't agree to, I just told her "no." When the boss tried to call me in early or to work a late shift, I would only work if I got paid. No working off the clock for me. Nosiree. Despite my family being part of the working poor, I had no one to support, so I could afford to quit a job I didn't like and go find another.
This isn't the case with most of the working poor. Especially with those teens who's income is the only (or one of the primary) source(s) of support for their family. The economy being what it is, people don't have job mobility. A lot of times, they don't have transport, especially in big, spread-out cities. I was always within walking distance or could bum a ride from the shared family vehicle (when we had a car).
As I got older, I swore to always charge for my time. So it drives me nuts to see the SO doing hourly consulting work and occasionally not charging those extra few hours for the meetings he gets roped into at the last minute. And yet...
I just spent 10 hours today working on SQL Server installs and data restores down to QA environments. I have a release to do in the middle of the night, probably bringing that total up to 12. During month end, I regularly work full days during the weekend as well as the week to support my internal customers. My weekly hours run between 41 to 50 on a "normal" work week. Once I even worked 60. But I'm exempt. I no longer get to bill for hourly wages.
What the heck am I doing? Apparently I love my job. Being a database administrator is one of the greatest challenges of my life. I get to solve problems. I get to code. I get to make things work, and when I have the bit between my teeth, I just don't want to stop.
"Work" really is a four-letter word. At least it is when you don't love your job. What I'm doing isn't work (except on really bad days). It's a passion. A lot like my writing is, only this one actually pays the bills.
What about your job? Love it? Hate it? Tell me why.
When I was a kid, my mother taught me never to say four-letter words. You know the ones I'm talking about: the F-bomb, the S-word, etc. Mom was raised as an aspirant to high-society. My grandmother went to (what I believe was) a private boarding school with the daughter of Oscar Mayer (yes, the hot-dog empire Oscar). So mom learned all about how to lay a table, how to throw a party, how to properly eat your dinner (no elbows on the table, left hand on your lap unless you're cutting food), etc. That included being polite and not cursing. So no four-letter words, thank you very much, or there would be heck to pay. I vaguely remember threats of washing mouths with soap, but it never came to pass.
Still, there it was.
Over the years the "four-letter word" mantra has become something of my own personal joke. "Mom taught me never to use four-letter words, so I can't be at work today." (Not that the boss ever buys that. @=) And yet, as I think of it, I've only ever had one job I truly hated. One job where it really was WORK, where I could not stand to come into the office day after day. That job lasted a week. I had to quit. I could literally feel my emotions atrophy, my sanity run screaming as I crossed the threshold, and the frustration and anger building each time I got on the phone.
There were jobs that I didn't like. Most of them when I was an hourly employee. But I never hated them. I knew they were work, but it didn't quite have the same impact as the 1-week event. I worked retail when I was in high school and college, and as the front of the company, got a lot of the complaints and hassles from the irate, hard-to-please customers. Because I still lived with the 'rents, my income was mostly discretionary. No rent, few bills. It was glorious. So when the boss tried to schedule me to work a holiday I didn't agree to, I just told her "no." When the boss tried to call me in early or to work a late shift, I would only work if I got paid. No working off the clock for me. Nosiree. Despite my family being part of the working poor, I had no one to support, so I could afford to quit a job I didn't like and go find another.
This isn't the case with most of the working poor. Especially with those teens who's income is the only (or one of the primary) source(s) of support for their family. The economy being what it is, people don't have job mobility. A lot of times, they don't have transport, especially in big, spread-out cities. I was always within walking distance or could bum a ride from the shared family vehicle (when we had a car).
As I got older, I swore to always charge for my time. So it drives me nuts to see the SO doing hourly consulting work and occasionally not charging those extra few hours for the meetings he gets roped into at the last minute. And yet...
I just spent 10 hours today working on SQL Server installs and data restores down to QA environments. I have a release to do in the middle of the night, probably bringing that total up to 12. During month end, I regularly work full days during the weekend as well as the week to support my internal customers. My weekly hours run between 41 to 50 on a "normal" work week. Once I even worked 60. But I'm exempt. I no longer get to bill for hourly wages.
What the heck am I doing? Apparently I love my job. Being a database administrator is one of the greatest challenges of my life. I get to solve problems. I get to code. I get to make things work, and when I have the bit between my teeth, I just don't want to stop.
"Work" really is a four-letter word. At least it is when you don't love your job. What I'm doing isn't work (except on really bad days). It's a passion. A lot like my writing is, only this one actually pays the bills.
What about your job? Love it? Hate it? Tell me why.