I have always considered myself a hard worker and my work ethic has been a sense of pride. I’ll bust ass with the best of them and will tell stories for hours about how I would pull an over night radio shift at WSHE back in the day, sleep for a few hours and then go sling hash at Il Giardino Italian restaurant on Las Olas when I was in my 20’s. Work, work, work… I have had some kind of job since I can remember. When I was 12 and 13 I was in high demand as a babysitter for the neighborhood kids. I got my first real job when I was 15 at Arthur Treacher’s Fish and Chips and when I was 16 and 17 I worked for a Ft. Lauderdale institution called the Jungle Queen, a paddle wheel type of thing that would ferry tourists around Ft. Lauderdale’s waterways also called the “Venice of America”. My father drilled it into my head from the time I was old enough to put out my hand and ask for money for that pair of Guess? jeans – GET A JOB!!! Now that I am older I appreciate the stevedore work ethic but I am questioning how hard I want to work and for how long? I recently took a new job which enables me to work from home in my yoga pants. Great right?? Freedom and no one to look over my shoulder! No more soul-sucking commute on the freeway! I can make my own schedule. But I’ve found that now that I can make my own schedule I am always at the computer until 8 or 9pm tapping away. At least working in the office I could waste time at someone’s desk eating Hershey kisses from their communal candy bowl or take a long lunch. I also feel the pressure to do more. Do more with this web site, blog more, build your platform, etc. You know what? I’m friggin exhausted with trying to keep up. `One of my favorite teachers Ram Dass describes this feeling in his book Still Here: Embracing Aging, Changing, and Dying. I want to learn to live in the moment and not be so concerned about “doing” the next thing. Reading another manual, mastering another program, is it really that important? I want to have a balance between what I love to do and having a life. That is what’s important.
Worker Bee Syndrome
