When I was a kid, I worked. I mean, “work” is relative, I suppose. It’s not like I was a farm hand or electrician’s assistant. I referee’d basketball, umpired baseball, counseled campers and for a few summers/winters in the most blatant STAY IN SCHOOL job I’ve ever had I stocked shelves at an auto parts warehouse. That job alone could get it’s own post, but I digress.
Point of all this is… I think now, if you’re a gainfully employed adult, you take paychecks for granted. Hell, most of us don’t even actually receive hard-copy paychecks any more. When they do get deposited into our accounts, it’s just a little bit we use to stave off the beast of bills, rent checks, mortgages, bank statements, car notes, college loans and other not-fun-things we spend money on as adults.
But think back, if you will, to getting those first checks. Some of mine would arrive, after what was at that point a full work week (I worked all of Saturday afternoon and two nights during the week! Gee wiz!) totaling no more than $100. Typically, it was far less. But, boy did it feel great. You didn’t care how much money was being taken out of your check, you didn’t have bills to pay. Your only concern was how fast you could spend it… how many CDs you could buy or candy at the mall or movie theater tickets or video games or jerseys… The world was yours (provided, of course, you officiated enough sporting events).
This is a top feeling because we’ll never go back there again, and primarily that’s a great thing. But, the joy of having money you earned yourself and being able to spend it only on fun shit… god, that was the life.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Every other Friday of your adult life, until you retire or die.