More proof that I was smarter 5 years ago

I wrote this a few years back...

When I finally made up my mind to work from home I did it for several reasons. Maybe some of these are what you are thinking and maybe some seem a bit selfish, but remember one thing. You only get to go around once. Why spend it doing some one else’s work for most of your life and then complaining about it?

I am 38 years old. I have been on all sides of the employment coin. I’ve been in federal and local government service, the private sector and Big Business. I’ve also spent time in the non-profit world. And though each of these jobs had its benefits, excellent people and some satisfaction, nothing has ever been more rewarding than starting my own freelance commercial writing business.

Once I got beyond the fear that every independent business owner must face, I mean everything from failure to ‘how to write a winning resume’; the transition was quite a bit smoother than I anticipated. Not that there haven’t been some bumps. It’s impossible to plan for everything, so several items caught me slightly off guard. Things like how much it costs for a single business to register with the local Chamber of Commerce, and how much office supplies really cost. But the reality is I am happier now than at any point during one of my ‘jobs’.

This is not to say that all ‘jobs’ are bad, not even close. I know people who will most likely spend the rest of their lives earning a wage and are damned happy to have that. What I am saying is that working for someone else is not built naturally into us. It is an outside societal thing that is built in over the course of a life in school and friends. The concepts of self-employment are big with children. Witness any child looking for a way to purchase his next pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards. He will sell the Popsicles out of his own freezer to earn cash. Or try to sell toys, lemonade, or his little sister if he thinks he can get away with it.

Over the course of the years he will hear his friends and family talk about getting good grades so that he can get a job that pays his bills and allows him to live a good life. Entrepreneurship is, in best cases ignored and in worst cases, shunned. But this is a new thing. Well, relatively new since last century.

It wasn’t that long ago that 90% of the population was self employed or used barter in some way to obtain the things they wanted. The industrial revolution and the creation of the ‘factory’ changed all that. People no longer needed to be skilled craftsmen to earn a way though life. All they needed was to be able to get up in the morning and punch the clock.

The skilled craftsmen of that time worked. Sometimes from sun-up to sundown. The work was arduous, tedious and often downright dangerous. But they produced products that they were proud of. Things made ‘with love’. The opposite of that is what we have now. I’m not pointing fingers, I am as guilty of this as the next person. I have had ‘jobs’ where I clocked in and did as little as possible. What did it matter to me? I was still getting paid. But now, as a single business owner, I am working harder than ever. But I am also enjoying it more. The work that I do benefits my customers, my family and hopefully the community at large. I love what I do, and I hope that it shows in the product that I produce. But in the working world, and I have heard this from dozens of friends and co-workers over my 22 year work history, as incentives get cut and jobs are on the line, there is no desire to ‘love’ what you do. In fact, most people work only because they must support themselves and do not feel the urge to own their own business.

Children feel the pinch of this as well. Their self-employment spirit is slowly dashed until only a handful will ever really try to be more than a cog on a wheel. Most will migrate from job to job and a lucky few will find a job they can care about. Current statistics show that the average American entering the workforce will change jobs every 5 years. And almost half will change entire career directions at least twice.

It’s a bit of a vicious cycle. Larger American companies are cutting staff at an alarming rate and according to most economists this has more to do with making the company competitive than any desire to add benefits to the lucky ones who survive the axe. I remember reading an article about a company here in Atlanta that cut over 8,000 jobs. To me that is tantamount to firing an entire town. And at the same time workers are less inclined towards company loyalty because they see jobs being shipped offshore. Benefits are being scaled back or completely cut. What’s the incentive? It’s like watching two people smack each other and not being able to stop because they don’t know how.

Now, when I started this piece I said that the reasons that I chose to go into business would seem selfish to some and may be just what others are thinking. My primary motivation was to have complete control of my time. I am a night owl. I do my best writing at night. And as a result I tend to sleep a little later in the morning. Setting your own hours is not something that a large majority of workers get to do. It really doesn’t matter to your employer when you do your best work. They pay you for certain hours and that is when you are to be there.

More importantly, I wanted to be available for my children. It took me 10 years to realize that day care was raising my kids instead of me. People don’t realize that children grow at an exponential rate now a days. The smiling, peach cobbler smeared toddler of today will be a grown woman in what feels like 15 minutes, and unless you are watching you will miss the whole thing.

To those of you beginning your own business, congratulations and DON”T give up. For those of you considering making the leap, keep this in mind; Do what you love and then find someone to pay you for it. (Best single piece of advice I have ever got.) And to those of you headed out to work, remember to do what you do for yourself, your family and your community at large.

My Creed

By : Howard Arnold Walter (1883 - 1918)

I would be true, for there are those who trust me
I would be pure, for there are those who care
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer
I would be brave, for there is much to dare
I would be friend of all- the foe, the friendless
I would be giving, and forget the gift
I would be humble, for I know my weakness
I would look up- and laugh- and love- and lift.

I don't think theres anything else to add that...

Running for my supper… Or How I Joined the UPS Nation

Huff.

Puff.

Pant.

Wheeze…

Um, excuse me for a minute while I bend over and throw up. Oh, wait, I already did that. Heck, I guess I’ll just get back in the truck and wait for the next house.

What? Already. Okay, damn. Out we go again. Up the hill, around the corner and a quick jump over the sleeping pit bull. Drop the package at the front door, turn around and realize that my quick jump woke up the 70 pound ball of razor blades and acid for blood dog. Hmmm. All this for a quick buck?

Let me back up a bit, in order to bring in money I took a job with UPS as a driver assistant. Sounds innocuous, right?

Umm, no.

First, let me point this out - there is a reason you NEVER see a fat UPS or FEDEX driver. The job runs the fat off of you in very short order. For a driver alone in a truck, there can be as many as 140 deliveries to make during a normal 8 to 10 hour day. There are times that they are so busy that the only breaks during the day involved taking a quick piss and grabbing a coke. Lunches frequent are ignored so that the job can get done in a decent amount of time. And as time progresses nearer to the holidays, that can get worse.

UPS took to hiring helpers to ride with the drivers to keep the process flowing. It makes the job easier for the primary driver and it helps employ some poor schmuck who needs a little help. Most people who do it are looking for extra Christmas cash. Some have been unemployed for a while and just need any kind of money.

And that’s where I enter the picture. No job, no money and the holidays rushing up like a fucking freight train on crack. Gotta do something to get some money coming in. So when the opportunity presents itself to work for one of the largest employers in America, I jump at the chance. Albeit somewhat reluctantly, but I jump nonetheless.

I am prepared for the whole ‘new guy’ effect. I am prepared for the possibility of getting bit by dogs, harassed by those few white people who still think blacks are the spawn of Satan. Heck I was even prepared for the small pay that they offer.

What I wasn’t prepared for were the hills. And the running. And the 3/10ths of a mile long driveways carrying Johnny or Janie’s 40 pound toy. Please remember, I am 43 years old. I stand 5’6” and weigh 210 pounds. So I am not exactly in prime fighting shape for my weight class. A polite person would call me pudgy, but I’m not polite so I call myself fat. Call a spade a spade and all that. I’ve been working on losing weight, but that’s a whole nuther blog entry.

The majority of houses that are on the route I share are in ‘upper’ class neighborhoods, which is to say that they are $250K and up. And I noticed one thing right away. They all love long, winding, sloping driveways. And dogs. They ALL love dogs…

In an effort to make the deliveries go faster the driver will park the truck on the street in front of the residence and run the package to the front door or garage of the home. During the orientation we were told that they expected a ‘brisk walk’ from the truck to the residence and back to the truck. I was quickly disabused of this notion by the driver I was assigned to. He doesn’t brisk walk. He runs. From the truck to the house and back, running. Fast.

Since I didn’t want to appear to be some sort of punk, I took my cue from him. But then reality, and gravity, set in. The first hill I ran up reminded me of the facts of life. From not running to running isn't a good idea for a 43 year old sedentary man. The driver is 24. Granted, he’s a bit taller than me, and might even outweigh me. But he's been doing this for 5 years.

And he’s 24…

I felt like a great beached whale the first time I tried to run back down a 25% grade driveway and all the flubber on my body was moving this way and that under my skin. It would have been embarrassing if I hadn’t been wrapped in a hoody. As it was, I’ve never noticed the areas of my body that were jiggling before. Stuff on my sides and in my back. Who ever notices the sides of their body?

Anyway, I worked the first two days for 2 hours each. 2 hours of hitting the ground running and trying to maintain that pace without bursting my heart. Oddly enough, I realized that I am in better shape than I thought. I only panted and wheezed for a few seconds after each delivery.

My body, though complaining loudly, seemed to be enjoying itself. With the exception of the 2 mile walks I take daily through our neighborhood, this is the most exercise that I’ve had in 3 years. When I was driving the tow truck I stayed in pretty good shape because of the physicality of the job. But two years working for AT&T, sitting in a cube and yakking on the phone had pretty much undone that.

It was weird and exhilarating to be moving again in the fresh air. It rained the first day, but the second day was nice and sunny, if a bit cold. The whole thing woke up a part of me that working in a strictly environment controlled building put to sleep a long time ago. I felt alive. I felt free. I also felt a LOT of pain.

The strange thing was, my body seemed to recover quickly. The morning of the second day I was stiff for a few moments, but after I got moving I was fine. The morning of the third day was a bit more intense. Even my ass muscles hurt. I’m telling you, if you’ve never had your ass muscles hurt; it’s a very unique experience. Try it sometime, seriously, I dare you.

The job is scheduled to last until the 31st of December. I will stick with it because we need the money. I will also stick with it because I am too stupid to quit. So unless I get hurt or mauled by somebody’s damned pit bull, I expect to be sore and happy for the next 25 or so days.

Pant.

Pant.