On the way to work this morning, I heard a teaser on the radio which did what it's supposed to do: It piqued my interest.
Why do we work? Tess Viglund of Marketplace Money queried. Of course we work for money, but why else?
Why indeed? I think to myself, now at work, which is a weekly newspaper in rural America, housed in a dilapidated old building on Main Street.
I won't lie — I need that paycheck every two weeks. While it's not excessive, it's nothing to sneeze at, either.
But it is more than the paycheck, that much is true. I feel that my contribution to the newspaper means something. Though we don't have an unlimited budget to create a stunning and prize-winning publication, we produce a solid newspaper every week. It includes news people need to know — obituaries and upcoming farming clinics, 4-H results and engagement announcements. If we didn't do what we do, a vital part of our community would be lost.
So there is a distinct purpose to my job. Each week, I breathe a sigh of satisfaction when I hold the finished product in my hands. But only a second, because then it's time to start on next week's paper.
I'm always about a week ahead of the rest of the world.
And there is the camaraderie, too. I'd miss that if I didn't work here. Though I'm the youngest employee by far, I've learned that age isn't a barrier to friendship. I glean recipes and household tips from my older co-workers and we laugh together often. Sometimes we don't see eye-to-eye, which is normal, particularly when I try something new with photos or design.
"Oh," they say, "we'll hear all about that at coffee later this week."
That's the other thing — they bring me all the good gossip from around town. I'm not nearly so well-informed as they are, but thankfully, they're always willing to share!
Perhaps I should tell my boss to hold the check next week. After all, it seems I get enough out of working — who needs to get paid?
Ha. I never knew this was going to be a funny blog.
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