“You never HAVE to work. You GET to work.”
A man once spoke that quote, and I happen to be his biggest fan. He’s nobody famous; in fact he’d have hated the bright lights and hoards of people of LA or NYC. But to me, he was the whole world. He was simply “Grandpa”. He grew up during the Great Depression; a time when most would do anything just to make a few cents to feed their family. A job was a blessing, not something to moan and groan about on Monday morning.
In high school, I’d meet my grandpa after school at the coffee shop often. After graduation, I worked for my parents’ family business and was able to eat lunch with my grandparents each day at noon. Even after my oldest son was born, I’d take him to work with me and we’d go see them at lunch most days. Every day he’d tell me hello and quickly follow up with, “Did ya get to work today?”. More than once I said, “Ugh, I had to work today, Grandpa.” We all have those days, right?
I didn’t realize it then, but all that time spent with Gramps made a couple things happen. The first of these is that I’d gained myself a best friend and never knew it until years later. A person who saw me at my best and at my worst, who cried at my successes, who laughed at my dramatics and just shook his head and said, “Oh hell, Jessica”, who told me like it was in the kindest of ways, who offered sound advice, who picked on me as much as I dished it out to him, who listened and didn’t judge, and who inadvertently instilled a strong work ethic in me.
The Working Gene Runs Deep
Hard work runs deep in my family. Grandpa got up around 4 in the morning each day for breakfast before heading into work at the tomato factory he managed. He’d work to day’s end, then come home and have a cold bowl of cereal for dinner and a spoonful of peanut butter before his 7 pm bedtime. When he retired, he still found ways to keep himself busy. He also found time to join the 3pm coffee club to gossip catch up on news with other retirees. My dad (his youngest of three sons and a daughter) is the definition of hard worker. I should submit his photo to the good folks at Websters so they can add it in beside the words “hardworking”.
While the housekeeping gene might have skipped me (much to my mother’s dismay, I’m sure), I inherited the worker bee gene. I can’t remember a time since my early teens when I didn’t desire to work a job or three. Babysitting, fast-food, clerical work, bartending, stocking shelves–you name it, I did it!
I’m not rambling on about my family’s impeccable work ethic just to brag. There’s a point to all this, I promise. Grandpa had a stroke a few short days after my youngest son was born. He never really was himself again (on the outside. Inside he was as loving and awesome as ever). My littlest boy never got the chance to know Gramps like I did, but he does remember him.
A Fourth Generation GETS to Work
A few days ago, the little guy (he’s 8 now, but still my baby) was discussing how he’d really love to have a clubhouse. On a three hour drive (that felt comparable to Gilligan’s three hour tour) he began rounding up so many ideas how he could get his clubhouse–all of which involved hard work to make his own money. He has big plans: lemonade and comics sold in the summer, coffee/cocoa and comics for the winter, shoveling snow, mowing grass, pulling weeds–you name it! It was during that car ride that he decided to create his own lawn and landscaping business!
In the first 24 hours of being in business, he’s already made over $100! He invested most of that into equipment such as a leaf blower, electric trimmer, pruning shears, and gloves. His Gigi donated a push mower to his cause. This kid is on top of the world working hard and making money for a job well done. His behavior has been on point. His focus, which can sometimes be sketchy, has been top notch. This alone has my heart about to explode with pride. But a conversation I overheard in the car sent my mama heart right over the edge, and my eyes sprung a leak as well.
My older son, who just doesn’t seem to love the idea of working (yet), was groaning that he didn’t really want to accompany my little guy on one of his jobs. He said, “Ugh. I mean, if I HAVE to work with you I will to get some money for the clubhouse.” My little man didn’t skip a beat. He promptly replied with, “Max! Don’t you know–you never HAVE to work! You GET to work! Didn’t you learn anything from Grandpa?!” For perhaps the first time in my life, I was speechless.
I know this was a long post just to get to one little point, but let me just say–providing your kids with great work ethics will really get them so far in life. Not just monetarily, but hard work provides a sense of self worth, confidence, responsibility, and pride. During our three hour trip, in the midst of all the chatter about a lawn and landscaping business, I’ll admit that I wasn’t his biggest cheerleader, but I’m so glad that I encouraged him to pursue his dream at the end of the day. I hope his dedication to working hard lasts his whole entire life because the benefits will stick with him forever.
XoXo
Jessica
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