One can consider work as something to do to earn money.
I think this might be a little shortsighted.
Yesterday, you took a job and kept it for your entire working life. There was a loyalty between company and worker.
This is not any longer the case.
We take jobs for many different reasons. Loyalty is gone. Each party is out for their own interests.
City of Birth through age 22 – Chicago – more specifically – Near North Side.
I could walk to the “loop” from my house in about an hour.
Ethnic makeup – immigrant and first generation Italians.
Socioeconomic Strata – Middle Lower Class to Lower Middle Class. It was the organized crime members
that moved us into the Middle Class.
Housing: Three and four story apartment buildings.
I have arrived at a time in life wherein I have to consider all my various jobs as life experiences.
I’ll take you down the road I have traveled.
Formative Years – Age ??? to 14 (??? to 1955)
My neighborhood was my microcosm of learning. Each day seemed to bring an new adventure and learning experience confined to such a small ares – a few city blocks around my house.
St Columbkille, church and my grammar school were only one-half block away.
My uncles and aunts lived down the street on the same block.
That’s how it was growing up. Families tended to stay close.
My Uncles Helper Age 10
The first “job” I can remember was working for my Uncle Sol. He was a sheet metal worker and on weekends he was always working around his house. I’d go over each Saturday to help him – ten cents per day. This added to my weekly allowance of twenty-five cents per week provided me with all the spending money I needed.
The additional benefit of learning all kinds of useful things. Like how to use a saw, hammer, level, etc. My main task was to clean up during our working. I never forgot this and have practiced cleaning while working so your work area is neat and organized. Each tool had to go back where it came from after use. A well organized work environment is an advantage to success.
Shoe Shine Boy Age 12 – one of my friends approached me with the idea we could make money building a
shoe shine box; then go around to the taverns in our neighborhood shining shoes. What a great idea.
It was wine making season – fall – and there were wooden grape boxes readily available in our alley.
We took the wood and were able to fashion them into a shoes shine box. My first business venture. The going rate at the time was ten cents per shine.
I was on my way to my first fortune as an entrepreneur. Except……
My father did not know about my new enterprise. He soon became aware and immediately ended my budding business. His logic was that I should not be shining shoes and embarrassing him. I never fully understood this, since my allowance for doing my chores was twenty-five cents per week. I was making about fifty cents per day shoe shining.
Paper Boy – Age 12 – 13 (1956 – 1957)
At the time we lived at 521 N. Ashland Avenue in a three story apartment building – on the third floor. I could see the down town skyline from our living room windows.
Only three blocks north of our home was the Chicago Tribune local delivery office. I applied for a job and was hired on the spot.
My first job working for a pay check.
It was an easy fun job (except for rain and winter). Each day,after school, I’d go to the storefront office and pick up my papers, fold them, put them into the bag we used to sling over our shoulder and go to my route. I had about 50 stop over a 10 block area. Earned about $12 per week with tips.
We had to make collections each week from out customers.
Within as few months I was promoted to “Branch Captain”. I now was in charge of the other delivery boys and had to make their deliveries if someone was absent. This paid about $20 per week plus bonuses.
My career came to an end one cold winter day. I was delivery papers with my sled. I would pull the sled behind me with a rope looped around my wrist and my hands in my pocket (gloves were bothersome when handling the papers). I was walking under the L Tran track when I happened to step into and on a coat hanger under the snow. When I fell; I could not get my hands out of my pocket in enough time to break my fall.
I landed on my face, breaking my glasses, cutting my face. I finished the route: cold, sore, etc. That day I decided to seek a better way to work. I gave notice, found my replacement and moved on to another life experience.