Yesterday, I read this post from the group Humans of Salt Lake City:
As I was reading it, it made me think of a very similar situation I went through in 2009 and a lesson my dad taught me that has stuck with me since then.
In January of 2009, I became a full-time reporter for my college newspaper. I didn't make a lot of money, but it was enough to get by. I had returned home from my LDS mission the previous October and had never worked for the newspaper before, which is why, in May 2009, I was shocked to learn we didn't print over the summer and I would, thus, not be paid for three months. My girlfriend (now wife) and I had been talking about getting married in the fall, and zero income doesn't pay for a ring and wedding expenses. I was planning on going to law school right after college, so I applied to at least 20 law firms in Salt Lake City for a runner/secretarial position just to get something on my resume.
At the time, I had served a mission to Italy, I had a good GPA, I was a reporter for a newspaper, I was president of my fraternity, and was involved in lots of groups on campus. At the time, I thought I was a shoo-in for any of these jobs. I was arrogant. After applying, I started setting up interviews. I interviewed with at least five firms; I interviewed with one three times, and even met with a couple partners. I thought for sure I would get the job. I didn't. At this point, it was a week before my paychecks would stop and I needed to find something. I began applying everywhere and couldn't get anything. I was shocked that nobody would hire a perfect candidate like me.
My dad's friend had, as a side job, aerated lawns for years, but was too busy at his regular job to do it, so my dad convinced him to let me do it and keep 60% of the profits. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. Finally, I wasn't going to be able to pay my rent, so I had to do something. A friend recommended that I apply to be a security guard for the Real Salt Lake games, where he worked. Initially, I scoffed at that idea because, thanks to generous family friends, I usually was able to sit in very nice seats at RSL games. If I took that job, it would have been a demotion. But, I figured that was flexible and would hold me over until I found a "real job." The company e-mailed me and invited me to an interview at Rio Tinto Stadium. As with all interviews, I dressed in a suit and had extra resumes on hand just in case.
When I arrived, I was the only person not wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I had been bearing the stress of the situation pretty well until this point, but something inside me snapped. I was too good for this. I was better than all these other people. I was too good for minimum wage. They called my name and instead of the conference room where all my other interviews took place, this was in a big room where 15 or 20 interviews were simultaneously taking place. My interviewer looked at my resume and complimented me on how impressive it was. "Thanks, but it hasn't done my any good," I thought. I remember he asked me all the stupid interview questions that assess nothing, like what is my greatest weakness. "I just care too much." "I'm a perfectionist." "I'm lying to you, sir." At the end of the interview, I remember him saying, "Well, I think you're pretty qualified. So, we're going to offer you the position."
That hit me hard. I wanted to say to him, "You're damn right I'm qualified. I'm too qualified. I shouldn't even be here." He offered me minimum wage. I had never worked for minimum wage, even as a teenager. It was insulting. I thanked him for his time and told him I'd look forward to his e-mail. As I walked out past the denim-wearing masses, I was angry. I was pissed. I didn't deserve this. I was too good for this. I got into my car and drove away, embarrassed. I met my girlfriend to eat. As we were sitting in the restaurant (a fast-casual place, so no wait staff), I became more and more emotional about the situation. Finally, I felt like I was going to have a breakdown, so I bolted out of the restaurant. My girlfriend followed me and we went and sat in her car. I lost it completely. My wife will tell you that I never cry - not for lack of trying, I just think I'm broken. I cried. I ugly cried. I cried so hard I heaved.
I was angry at the situation. I was angry at myself. I was angry that I had to take a job that was below me. I was angry that I couldn't afford to buy her an engagement ring. I was angry that life wasn't working out how I planned. I was just angry.
After I calmed down, I got into my car and headed home. On the way, I called my dad and told him that I got the job. I told him it was minimum wage. I told him I was embarrassed. I told him I was better than that. He then asked me, "Are you going to take the job?" I told him I had to, because I didn't have any other options. He then said something to me that I haven't forgotten: "Son, I'm proud of you because you're willing to do whatever it takes to support your new family, even if that means making minimum wage."
I was immediately embarrassed for how I had acted. I had been arrogant, selfish, and self-pitying. I should have been grateful that I had found a job, but instead I was angry that it was below me. I was acting like a child.
As luck would have it, a fraternity brother's mom managed an Applebee's, so I was able to leverage that into a job. People laugh when I say it, but I loved that job. At the end of the summer, I was promoted to Assistant News Editor and was able to earn more money and a scholarship at the newspaper. It all worked out in the end.
I never worked a single shift as a security guard for minimum wage, but it taught me an invaluable lesson about life: that nobody is too good for anything. I'm grateful that my dad a perspective much wiser than mine and was able to expose my arrogance and knock me down a couple notches.
