Attitude Adjustment

I started the day feeling tired and upset. I'm still tired, but now I feel empowered by my new state of mind. I wanted to complain about all the little quirks and unfair things I felt I endured in my workplace. After a little attitude adjustment, I realize now how selfish I'm being.

Here's what changed my thinking:
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It bothers me to no end when I step out of our little work bubble and see how much we all complain despite how good we have it at work. I do a quick reality check by going back in time and remembering one of the worst jobs I ever had.

It was about seven or eight years ago when I used to get on my 10-speed bicycle at 10:00 p.m. and pedal 5 miles to work. During the summer, my ride was pleasant and sometimes even fun. Cold weather and rain made my ride to work difficult and burdensome at times.

I'd arrive at the all-night gas station to punch in and earn my $4.25 an hour from midnight to 8:00 a.m. I cleaned floors, stocked the entire store, made the store presentable for the next day, and took care of customers that came in during my shift.

For two years I forgot what it was like to sit down at work. We had no chairs to sit in, except in the store manager's office, and after a month or two of being on your feet continuously for eight hours, everyone got used to it.

For two years I put my mom through what must've been a nightmare wondering if I was going to get shot at work one night. Had I been a bit more mature back then, I would have worried about the same things. There was no bulletproof glass, there was no video surveillance camera, the emergency police button didn't work, and my adulterous boss was tyrannical about us not keeping any weapons behind the register. The most dangerous thing in that place was a wet floor.

Despite the police station being only three blocks away, I was held up at gunpoint twice and robbed half a dozen times. I remember being very calm when I was first held up at gunpoint. The two guys came in at about 1:00 a.m., and they took money from the register, cigarettes, and several other things I can't remember. The police came by, my boss showed up, and the shock finally hit me an hour later when I ran to the bathroom with a bad case of the shakes and dry heaves. I worked the rest of the night, but I didn't dare tell my mom about my little adventure. I don't remember if I ever did.

A dreamjob as a security guard at the entrance to a smelly shrimp processing plant finally yanked me out of that little pit.

Now I look at the dreamjob I'm living, and I feel almost guilty when I feel like I have to complain about answering the phone, or doing menial paperwork that any 13 year-old could do. We forget how good we have it. We forget how quickly and easily we can be replaced. We forget who we are, and where we are. We surround ourselves with a false sense of self-importance and we make our lives out to be so much more complicated than they really are. I'm so ashamed.