One of the Same

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The alarm clock blares at one in the morning, knifing through the silence of the night. As I roll over in the bed I hear the shower turn on, followed by the garage door opening and closing. There he goes again, I mumble to myself. The day commences with a minimum of fourteen hours of work ahead of him. The job consists of picking up close to a thousand bread crates and delivering them to stores around Southeastern Wisconsin.
Many don’t understand what it takes to do the job. The mental aspect of working third shift averaging four to five hours of sleep a night, working alone and being one of only several cars on the entire interstate. The physical aspect of lifting thousands of crates on and off the truck drains the body as each hour passes. The idea of having a day off is nonexistent. Seven days a week is the expected standard. Calling in sick is not an option. Taking a day off would result in a loss of a job. I can count on one hand how many days he has had off in the past year. No, not on the holidays, those are the busiest times for him.

To say that my father works hard is an understatement. Not only does he work hard to provide for our family, but he somehow finds time to be a family man. Sacrificing sleep, he has been to all the games, concerts, graduations: every important milestone. Because of this, I call him my hero.

When my father and I discuss my future he begins with, “Well, you don’t want to be a Bread Man.” He’s right. However, the values taught by my father have ironically caused me to take a bread man’s approach to anything I run into in life. Life isn’t easy. Hard work and sacrifice are two things that will allow you to get by. When I think I can’t go on, I remind myself of my father. I think of the day to day grind he goes through. This alone gives me the motivation to succeed.





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