In the twenty-two years I’ve spent working somewhere or another, I can say that I’ve never had to work a Christmas Day. Considering the fact that most of those twenty-two years were spent either at a gas station or a factory, that’s saying something.
Having Christmas off was always a big deal to me. To be honest, the rest of the holidays didn’t really matter (though you don’t know depression until you’ve had to work on Thanksgiving or Easter).
Which makes Labor Day sort of the anti-Christmas for me. I’ve never had a Labor Day off. Ever. There was always gas to pump or spandex to make or, now, mail to deliver. There are no federal holidays for me. Like I said, I’m good with that. Mostly. But since Labor Day is sort of the goodbye song to summer, having to work today just kind of stinks.
All of this got me thinking about the work I do and how much (or little) I enjoy doing it. Which then made me wonder about the work you do and how much (or little) you enjoy doing it.
I wrote it all down over at katdish’s place , so in between the hot dogs and hamburgers you’re no doubt grilling today, feel free to visit. And save me one of those hamburgers, would you?
