It's All in a Day's Work

God sells us all things at the price of labor.  ~Leonardo da Vinci

If Mr. da Vinci is correct, then I’ve got a good 15-20 more years of shopping to do. That’s okay because man has been laboring since Adam and Eve got booted from the garden. Since I like having food, clothing, and a tiny roof over my little house, it’s off to work I go.

Today in the United States we celebrate our need for and our ability to work … by not working. Our country runs on the work of its citizens, and it’s a better place when we all work together. We try to work smarter, not harder so we don’t have to work our fingers to the bone. People of all ages, genders, and races contribute to our nation’s workforce. Businessmen and women often have to work the room while politicians try to work both sides of the aisle. Boxers hone their skills by working the bag and baseball hitters prolong at-bats by working the count. Creative folks produce works of art, illusionists perform works of magic, and some of my relatives think I am a real piece of work. However, I think I’m more of a work in progress.

At times our jobs aren’t easy and we have to really get down to work. We’re tasked with legwork and grunt work. We work like dogs as our bosses pile on the work and it feels like we have to work around the clock to get everything done. Of course, at home and in the marketplace, we men know that a woman’s work is never done.

As a teacher, some classes are better than others, but it seems like I always have my work cut out for me. I assign homework, but never busy work, and often have to perform detective work to figure out why little Sally is crying. After work, I usually go straight to the gym to work out. I love my kickboxing routine because I feel like I’ve really worked my butt off. Feeling worked over from the week; I usually skip the gym on Fridays.

While we’re all Men at Work, not everybody loves their jobs. According to the band Loverboy these people are simply working for the weekend. Meanwhile, Bruce Springsteen worked on the highway. While Michael Jackson worked day and night, Dolly only worked 9 to 5. Donna worked hard for her money, and the Beatles reminded us that we can work it out. But unless you’re a rich rock star like Huey Lewis, we’re all just working for a living.

As a sports fan, one of my favorite descriptions of an athlete is ‘workman-like’. Which is good because there are 10 Workmans, ranging from Brandon to Vince, on the all-time lists of NBA, NFL, and MLB players. Joe Work toiled in the NFL. Ralph Works pitched for the Tigers and Reds during the dead ball era. Ralph too died in 1941. This is very biblical, because faith without works is dead.

I like to think that I have a strong work ethic. I consider myself to be more of a worker bee. Carrying box upon box of my dad’s medical textbooks taught me to be a real workhorse. My mother encouraged me to work by attaching monetary incentives to random household chores. Money represented more baseball cards so I worked my socks off cleaning toilets and making beds until I had every card in the Topps 1977 collection.

In high school, my dad wanted me to get a taste of blue-collar work, so he found me a summer job at a local bathroom countertop factory. Talk about dirty work. A lifetime of employment ensued. I labored as a stock boy at a drug store where I worked up a sweat unpacking boxes and collecting shopping carts. I’ve toiled in the heat of a Michigan summer as a landscaper and I’ve battled LA traffic delivering airline tickets for a travel agent. I’ve waited tables, framed pictures, and made the cash register sing in a kitchen-gadget store.

As a sports information director, I spent countless hours writing media notes before each game or match. Then following the event, the notes I had perfected became obsolete. Straight to the recycle bin they went, as I set out preparing for the next game. That always bothered me and reminded me of the words spoken by a dear pastor, “Only two things live forever, people and the word of God.” While I was providing an important service and enjoying a life in sports, I wanted to invest in something eternal. Thus, a career in teaching was born.

Labor Day marks the end of summer, a season when hopefully you took a break to rest and vacation. It reminds us that while the struggle to work is real, we need balance in our lives between work and leisure. Enjoy the holiday. Do something fun. Fire up the grill instead of the sales report or the spreadsheet. Celebrate your careers and achievements. Return to your job tomorrow with a renewed sense of purpose. And just maybe, after today’s respite you’ll be at your desk, or in your classroom, or at the hospital …

… whistling while you work.