Get a job. Punch in. Punch out.
Early on we learn the hard truth of work. Jobs provide income. That’s how we survive.
It seems normal to treat work like a heavy bag that we are forced to carry throughout each day.
While we tend to moan about that task, I think it’s important, now and then, to look inside the bag.
It's full of stuff you've done. Your sweat. Your ideas. Accomplishments. It's full of you.
My first real job was at the metal shop where my dad worked. I was in high school and that summer job made it clear what I did not want to do, and why college was important.
I also saw where my dad went every morning, and what he carried in his work bag.
I stood at a metal cutoff saw all day: concrete floor, the smell of burning metal, a haze in the air.
I was a pup with the big dogs. The talk was rough. Beer was the drink. Cigarettes and cool lighters filled shirt pockets. And bending, shaping and welding heavy metal was the job.
A job I hated, but it felt good to be inside the circle.
And inside that circle, my dad was the guy. He knew what he was doing and why it was important.
It was more than a paycheck for schooling, gas in the tank, food on the table, and Christmas mornings I will never forget.
He carried his bag of work with pride — and I really needed to see that. Another lesson learned.
Because pride belongs in that luggage of life we call work.
I’m Lonny Cain, and that’s my perspective.
