17 August 2009

Hi-ho, hi-ho

Those armchair vocationalists crank out some treatises that I find helpful, after a fashion, on days when the poopmeter hasn’t pushed me over the ironic edge. :P Ultimately, to agree again with Gauntlets’ recent post, this seemingly prosaic existence makes sense, and becomes bearable, only in the mystery of poetry and the beauty of song.

But sometimes, in the trenches of daily tasks, I find it helpful simply to mutter, er, remind myself: Today, this is my job. THIS is my job. This IS my job. This is MY job. This is my JOB, today.

One college summer, I worked a factory job. Repetitious, mind-numbing, menial—a complete waste of all my, you know, college-educated talents. And you know what? I did a darn fine job of making widgets—so fine that I was quickly promoted to Master Widgetmaker tasks, with occasional stints on Widget Quality Control. I wasn’t fond of making widgets, nor of spending my summer in a windowless factory whose a/c couldn’t keep up with the ovens—but it was my job, so I turned my hand to it as competently as I could.

Er. Fast forward to my present repetitious, mind-numbing, menial job—a complete waste of all my, you know, college-educated talents. The products I’m manufacturing nowadays are eternal, not soulless components of cars that doubtless adorn the Clunker heaps by now. So why oh why, instead of turning my hand to these infinitely more important tasks as competently as I can, do I catch myself shrinking and shirking at every turn?* Master Widgetmaker I might have been; my Master’s in Motherhood is much more than a summer in the making (are commencement exercises even on the horizon yet?).

So sometimes, it just helps me to say it. Out loud even. This is my job. THIS is my job. This IS my job. This is MY job. This is my JOB. Self: put your haughty head down and do your job. Instead of welding another widget, today you will wipe another bum. (Again. And...again.) You’ll have to wait a little longer than two weeks for your paycheck, but those re-invested dividends are piling up like you wouldn’t believe.

Hi-ho, hi-ho…

What'll it be today--Sleepy? Grumpy? Too much to hope for Happy?

*That question was kinda rhetorical, but in case you couldn’t resist, you’re right: It’s because I’m lazy, selfish, and just generally evil.

10 comments:

Gauntlets said...

This is a really great post.

Rebekah said...

Rarely have I felt more gratified than the two times the widget factory where I toiled in misery while pregnant with Baby 1 called me at home after her birth and literally begged me to come back. So long, suckers!

Dakotapam said...

I'd much rather be in the trenches at home than on my twelve hour shifts at the hospital...it is there I have to repeat that it is my job to be there:) Never have I prayed for bedrest commands from my doc before! That being said, motherhood always came fairly naturally to me. Not that there have not been challenges, and I am a horrible homekeeper:) But nursing and changing diapers and reading endless stories is actually bliss for me. Now pregnancy-not so much-I'd perfer the 9 WEEKS that dogs are blessed with! At least I'm not an elephant!

JenniferH said...

* It may have been rhetorical, but then again, the widgets didn't talk. and talk and talk and talk and talk.

Rebekah's might've.

Reb. Mary said...

Dakotapam: You just sound like such a nice person :D And I too was horrified when first I learned that little factoid about pachyderm pregnancy.

JenniferH: :) Too true; the widgets I worked on could not be faulted for endless prattle.

lisa said...

This post put so much joy in my heart - Hi Ho Hum! My daughter and the forest animals salute you! ;)

Dakotapam said...

I'm not so nice (just ask my teen)...but I'm really patient with babies:) apparently not so patient with 13 year olds...and do not make me go to meetings!

Mine don't talk so much as JUMP ON FURNITURE and it may be making me a little CRAZY!

Marie said...

Today has been a "THIS is my job. This IS my job. This is MY job. This is my JOB" sort of day=)

Rebekah said...

JenH, :D. I still can't figure out why a phone-hating antisocialite like me kept getting jobs in call centers.

JenniferH said...

Rebekah: So that people like me could meet you, be inspired by your transcendence, and lurk you blog later in life. Or just to have all the answers that theological dolts like myself (at the time of course) couldn't procure fast enough for those seeking life's answers at a call center. As for me, that job made me the kind of SAHM who seldom talks on the phone, so at least there's that.