mizChartreuse || redefiningSuccess

For some, work is an obligation for basic survival: an after-school responsibility at a restaurant or a retail shop where they punch in at a timeclock, wear a name badge and some sort of uniform, receive hourly pay and/or tips, and use their earnings to pay for rent, bills, and food.

For others, work is a more than a job, it’s a career. It could be for a big corporate company, or it could be self-employment in one’s small business. It could be entertaining crowds or writing screenplays, or it could be managing others at a restaurant or retail store.

Yet for others, work is simply a part-time chore, endured only for money to buy booze on the weekends and supplement parental support. Bitches.

Some people work because it’s their passion. Others work to take care of basic necessities. To survive and thrive in this capitalist economy that is the United States, one must have some sort of income, and that generally comes from working. The bottom line is: work = m.. survival.

Many people start off working menial jobs for minimum wage when in their mid to late teen years. Sometimes it’s by choice, other times it’s by pressure from the parental units.

My first job was at 15 at a place called Lakeshore Learning Store, a teacher supply shop that was across the street from where I lived in Palatine. I didn’t choose to work there because I was interested in the behind-the-scenes of classroom decoration, nor was I enticed by the Kidz Bop and Sugar Beats CDs that were in constant rotation. I started working because I was tired of begging my parents for money—and I could walk there!

After that three-month stint, my other money-making endeavors included a cashier gig at Jewel, the customer service desk hottie girl at Sam Ash Music, and serving and bartending in countless restaurants, bars, and sports stadiums, in addition to modeling.

Several people my age have similar work histories on their resumes as well. Working crap jobs is a part of life. They pay the bills when you move away from home and into the mean world of city stickers, ORD citations, car insurance, and [insert utility here] bills.

I’m not gonna lie: I am beyond ready to stop making $4.20 per hour + tips and move on to my career path of choice, and I’m sure many students would agree. But until I achieve that wonderful piece of paper that says, “Charlotte has shelled out thousands of dollars, gotten into tons of debt, written countless papers, and spent 4+ years learning how to report and write well” (in so many words), dealing with drunken imbeciles, poor tippers, and a neurotic writer will have to do.

I envy people that have careers, or what I would call “cool jobs.” I do currently have a pretty interesting job working with an author (in addition to my three other sources of random income), which is somewhat a good step in the direction of my desired career (although my roommate Ben said, “No. NO! It’s NOT the right direction!” He obviously knows nothing). At least she pays pretty well!

I get to write, edit, research, accompany her to Whole Foods and the car wash, and listen to her family drama. In addition, her fear of flying is a lucrative road trip/vacation opportunity for me, as I drive across the country with her and she pays for my plane ticket back home.

From this interesting woman, I have learned that I can definitely write and publish books in the future, and that writers are neurotic…probably myself included.

Sometimes work is what one does to make ends meet, other times work entails getting paid to do what one loves. It could be a combination of both, or somewhere in the middle.

I wanna be like Piebald when I grow up. Travis, the singer, is a teacher, but still has a pretty sweet gig.

I mean, had. Piebald is no more. =(