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The Next Time You Complain About Your Job …

I was pulling into a lot in downtown Los Angeles today when I turned to my left, by the gate, and saw the above sign.

I’ve never really given much thought to those who work in parking garages, but it had me wondering: Is it all that different than smoking, oh, 20 packs of cigarettes a day? The stuff these men and women inhale can, without much knowledge on my part, be classified as significantly beyond harmful.

Like everyone, I complain about my work. I mean, I love writing. But there are certainly moments, and criticisms, and hurtful reviews, and uncooperative sources. On and on. But, day’s end, I get paid to write and, at Manhattanville College, teach. It’s a blissful, blessed thing.

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