The first Labor Day was celebrated in New York City on September 5, 1882. During this time, the city was in the early stages of electricity. Most worked 12-hour days or 60 hour workweeks. Children as young as six were allowed to work in factories, whereas today, children at the age of six cannot even play on their own front lawn without adult supervision.
I wonder if society then complained as much as we do now?
I admit it . . .
I want to quit sometimes. I don’t want to work the hours I work, and I’m tired. I have too many bosses and I am sure there are times when I curse them all. There are too many chiefs at my job and not enough Indians.
I get angry like the next guy and I complain, but no matter how much I complain, the job is still there and the workload never stops.
The way I see it, we all do time.
Whether our time is served behind a desk, swinging wrenches, or entering data; we are all slaved to a job in some way, shape, ort form. Whether we chose to serve our time in just ways or criminally, everyone has to work.
Even the lazy need to work. And I understand this may sound like a contradiction of terms; however, it often takes more steps to be lazy than it would to follow through and finish the task at hand.
I noticed a man at work pace in front of a cold water valve that needed to be changed in an empty tenant’s space. The space in question was the entire 11thfloor inside a commercial office building.
The valve had not been touched since 1926. Until this time, the piping and the valve had been encapsulated in terracotta, plaster, and cement behind one of the building’s water columns. This meant the column needed to be opened, the debris needed to be cleared, the valve removed, and to do this, the pipe would need to be cut.
First, the line needed to be secured by shutting the main supply valve at the top of its source. Next, the pipe needed to be drained, then cut, and then the remaining pipe needed to be threaded in place to fit a new fitting. In all, the steps to this job sound more troublesome than the job itself. But rather than follow through, I watched the man pace back and forth.
He devised a plan. He walked away from the job to fetch more tools. He came back, but he walked away again to fetch something else. Upon his return, the man was carrying more tools than needed. His boss stood at the water column with arms folded, red-faced, and angry.
He asked, “What the hell is taking you so long?”
“I had to get materials,” the man answered.
But his boss argued, “That’s bullshit! You’re just trying to waste time.”
So to oblige the man’s laziness after a brief argument, the pipe job was passed to someone else. As for the man, he was sent to a different job in the building. He was sent to paint inside a hot machine room next to the steam pipes for the remainder of the day.
And me, I was instructed to open the column and replace the valve, which took no more than an hour of my time. After completing the job, I went to gather the materials and clean up, but I was told, “Stop.”
“Someone else is going to do that,” said the boss.
Moments later, the other worker returned with sweat beading down his face. There was paint on his uniform and black soot on his forehead. As he collected the materials and cleaned the work space, I heard him mumble to himself, “It would have been easier if I just did the job myself.”
And I suppose he was right.
I used to spend a lot of time trying to figure an, “Easier, softer,” way.
Rather than put effort, I wasted years trying to come up with new plans to beat the system. Meanwhile, life gained momentum. Life continued and I fell behind. It would have been easier if I just served my time and did what I was supposed to do in the first place . . . but I was too busy being lazy.
The way I view my time and maintain my thoughts dictate whether I will succeed or fail. This also determines whether I will be miserable or happy. Whatever I decide to do for my living, either way, I’ll still have to serve time. I still have to work and I still have bills to pay.
Fortunately, our workweek is shorter than they were in 1882. And thankfully our pay has increased too.
God knows, I’m struggling to figure out how to pay my bills as it is.
Imagine what that would be like on $13.00 a week?
(That’s what my job would have paid in 1882)
Enjoy your Labor Day, folks
By Ben Kimmel, The Written Addiction
