Train Lesson

On the MRT ride earlier, I got to thinking about my early days in New York when I had my restaurant hostessing job. I usually got off work around 10pm, and on the 7 train, found employees looking as tired (or even more than) as I was, heading home from their respective jobs. I still remember how their faces looked, the palpable exhaustion, with the common denominator among people boarding the train nightly seemingly was that we were all either restaurant employees or blue-collar workers—definitely no spiffy nine to fivers with disheveled neckties. (Throwing in a little racial profiling, I've been told in the past that the 7 train that runs from Times Square midtown to way out in Flushing, Queens has been dubbed the "Orient Express.")

The experience from those early days had taught me to be more thankful and respectful of the jobs that have come my way, especially those that didn't require me to be on my feet for hours, seating people or even handing out flyers. I have learned to not take work for granted, and when faced with procrastination, I only have to think about people who have no choice but to work laboriously to make ends meet, or even to simply feed their families. True, I get lazy, even lethargic, sometimes, and continuously struggle with deadlines, but I have regular reminders of why I should be more diligent. After all, these days, I am able to command premium compensation for the work that I do, and it is only appropriate and fair to deliver beyond the minimum; and I hope to always go the distance.