I love my job. I love writing, talking to people, working to make my community a better place to live. I also like the paycheck I get every couple of weeks, but to work for the love of working is a rare gift. The Greenery talks about the phenomenon,
Perhaps you’re actually one of those extremely driven souls who thrive on long days at the office, negotiating, litigating, or typing your heart out until moonglitter streams into the windows. If so, I commend you. But I don’t entirely trust you. What are you trying to avoid? Do you fear human engagement outside of the cubicle? I mean, what’s the work for, if not to find a sense of meaning inside a life that’s larger than the work itself—and by larger, I mean full of people, friendships, laughter, travel, feasts, and not a few glasses of wine?
I believe in my heart that it depends on the job. If you love what you do, then it’s worth every minute.
Leave a Reply