I am a hard worker. I don't know if it's because my parents instilled in me that it's important to finish tasks, or the fact that my dad was a first generation college student who worked construction and a whole bunch of other stuff to pay his way through school and get his Ph.D. so his kids wouldn't have to do the same thing. I'm not sure if it's because I'm compensating for the fact that 2 generations of women in my family don't know how to clean. I'm in an interesting position of privilege. After all, I do go to a private liberal arts school and I will graduate with no debt. But I am also in that position partially because my father, grandfather, and great grandmother worked really really really fucking hard to get me here (I mean it didn't hurt that they were all white, and 2 of them were male, but that's for another post).
Perhaps because I am a hard worker, I love working. I love the nervous feeling you get right before you start a new job. I love the honeymoon period that happens right after you start the job, coming home gushing about free coffee, free flowers, your cool co-workers, your helpful boss. I also appreciate that the honeymoon period ends, and you start to realize the problems with the place you are working, and begin to wish that you could just sleep in when your alarm goes off. But at this point, I tell myself that a job is just a job, it's something that you have to do so you can eat, have a warm house, and put gas in your car. Work is called work for a reason, if you didn't get wiped out from scrubbing pots, didn't get really tired of smiling at people and flirting with old men, didn't get frustrated when you couldn't save the world, you might as well be at home sitting on the couch picking lint out of your belly button.
This is not to say that work is always terrible and not something that one can enjoy. My father has worked for the same place since he was my age, and he loves it. But that's not to say that he loves every meeting, deadline, and bit of bureaucracy that he has to deal with.
At times, I've genuinely enjoyed every job that I've had. I liked the job at the non-profit better than food service, but that's to be expected. I rarely broke a sweat or got covered in spaghetti sauce at the non-profit. But I love smiling at people, talking to bunches of strangers, making peoples' days a little brighter, getting to know co-workers, and of course, getting paid. I'm lucky that I'm a good cafeteria lady, and I think I'm relatively good at working in the food service industry, because I genuinely love people, and am good at dealing with them. Even when my boss is driving me nuts, a customer is mean, and it takes me a longer time to do a task than I would have liked, I remind myself that a job is just a job, and I feel less frustrated, and more like one of billions of people who work jobs that are just jobs.
I'm hoping my job as a catering cafeteria lady isn't my permanent one. I don't think I could ever be as excited about it in the same way that my dad is about his job. Let's be honest, some jobs just invoke more excitement than others. I'm really lucky that working in the Oberlin College dining hall will not be the last stop in my career. And I'm lucky that I came from a situation that will make this possible. But you know what? Even if I do graduate and become a career cafeteria lady, I will work hard at it. Because that's just what you have to do.