My Work Ethic

I had never really thought about my work ethic. I grew up in a house where my dad went to work every day – and well into his 70s (he retired at 77). He only took time off when he needed it for his health or when one of us needed him to go to the doctor or anything of the sort.

My mom stayed at home, but she was as hard working as my dad. Maybe even more so. Managing our house was never easy, but she did it lovingly. My parents, who came to the US in their late 30’s and 40’s with only savings in order to get my sister a transplant were able to prosper because of their hard work. My mom scrimped and saved to have enough savings to live off now that my dad retired (he is getting a retirement but it’s half of what he was making while working).

I started working when I was 15. For a month or two at an amusement park.  Then in college I started working retail for a year or two. Then as a teachers’ assistant, then a substitute teacher, then a receptionist, and finally now as an eligibility worker. What I’ve noticed as I look back through all my years of working I’ve kept up a good work ethic.

I don’t call out just for the sake of calling out. I’ve gone to work even when I’ve been sick (yes, I know, not the best idea…) and when I do have an appointment or something to do I take the least amount of possible and not the whole day.

There were jobs that this was more difficult to do than in others. I love my current job so much that when my husband asks me to stay home I just can’t bring myself to do it. Of course I might of missed a day or two in the past (in other jobs) because I couldn’t take it, but it wasn’t often and it was definitely the exception to the rule.

I guess these are signs of growing up, right?