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Hard Work

The first day of that first summer job was filled with nerves and sweat, lots and lots
of sweat. After the morning training on safety and the process of putting bags on corn
was when the nerves started. The nerves came suddenly, probably because: one I’m
forgetful, very forgetful, two, I hate being center stage, and three, I was the youngest one
there, or at least the youngest in the group I was in. As the day went on my nerves started
calm and a thought came to mind. The thought was, “Hey this isn’t that bad really, in fact,
it’s pretty easy. I can do this.” So the first day wasn’t so tough, but it was only going to get
harder from there on out.

The first week was truly awful. It was hot, muggy, boring, and there was almost no
shade out there to shield us poor fieldworkers. But as the week went on things started to
get better. First, I was putting the bags on faster and with better accuracy, second, I built
up an immunity to the awful corn anther pollen, and third, the heat didn’t bother me nearly
as much. So as the week was coming to a close I heard rumors that we had to work on
Saturdays.

I decided to prove or disprove this with my field leader, Aran W.. “So, Aran do we
have to work on Saturdays? I heard we didn’t have to.” “Yes we work on Saturdays. Also,
you can come in on Sunday and get paid extra for the hours you work.” He said it as if it
was completely normal. My heart sank. Work on Saturday? My parents don’t have to and
they make more than I’m making by a long shot! But then something clicked. More daysmeans more money, and more money means a happier me. I wasn’t going to let it get me down.

Next came the rain. The rain felt like a blessing. If it rained we had to go inside and
do nothing but sit back and relax. And get paid for it none the less. But there was a small
flaw in that ideology. If it rained for too long we would leave early and not get a full day’s
worth of pay. That was the one problem with rain.

As the rain seemed to stop my finale week started. Although I wouldn’t really call it
a week, more like three days. As my last day approached, I knew nothing about it by the
way, my group was assigned a new field leader. The new field leader, I didn’t ask his
name, was to say the least, not nearly as fun to work with if he was compared to Aran.
Also our tasks started to change. In the morning we’d still put bags on corn, or at least the
first two hours of the mourning. But, in the afternoon: we’d tag the new corn, hoe the
weeds, Imight add the conversation went downhill immediately, or end up leaving early
due to lightning or rain. My last day came so suddenly.

Simply put, the words, “Don’t come to work in the morning.” were said at the end of
the official anniversary, if one could call it that, three weeks of working. The words
startled me at first. Imean who wouldn’t be? To suddenly be told not to come to work is a
nightmare come true for most, but not for me. Besides I already had all the money I
needed anyway.

Looking back today at the first day Irealize that, on that first day a learnedsomething. No, not how to put bags on corn; but, to not accept giving up. And to give up because of nerves nonetheless? Pfft, Ireally was a tad spoiled. But the important thing is
that I didn’t give up. And if me, the guy who lets nerves rule his life, can overcome them
for a goal then why shouldn’t anyone else be able to?





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