We were talking about life, and what makes it worthwhile. My hosts were a high school graduate who had worked at the same factory since the early ‘90s and his wife, who is the chief nurse in the hospital emergency room in a nearby town. They have built a good, comfortable life for themselves with just about every desire satisfied. They make enough money every year to almost qualify as ‘evil rich’ according to our esteemed President.
He showed me his paystubs for the past three weeks. Eighty hours, then seventy-seven hours, and the last week was an easy one, only sixty nine hours. Those are weekly totals, and this ol’ boy works with his hands, not sitting behind a desk wrangling numbers. He works for his money, and has the scars and limp and torn muscles that often result from hard labor. He and his crew maintain the plant, and there is always something to fix and not enough people to go around. I wouldn’t want his job.
His wife has it a bit easier, although she spends a lot of time up to her elbows in blood and guts and torn flesh trying to save some poor unfortunate from their likely fate. I wouldn’t want her job either. She works long hours, too. So many that she has rented a room from a coworker at her hospital so that she can shower and sleep there instead of making the hour-long trip home when she is exhausted and sleep-deprived. She sleeps there maybe three nights a week.
When you cash your government check, do you ever wonder where the money came from?
Spend it well. You deserve it more than they do.