The virtue of working to live, not living to work
In my last year of college, my dad completed his thirtieth year at Ford Motor Company. He was a metallurgist at Engine Plant 2 in Cleveland, Ohio. As his only son, I wanted to find a nice job after graduation and make everyone proud. Mom and Dad were more than willing to make contacts on my behalf, drop resumes, and so on.
Dad felt his “ace in the hole” was lining up my interview as a floor supervisor in the Ford engine factory, where I would supervise 20-30 assembly-line workers. The salary was substantial, and the potential for overtime (double wage) was promising, too. We estimated I could pack away quite a bundle as a single man with no obligations beyond a small apartment. Like my immigrant great-grandparents, my objective was clear: work, work, work, above all else. A mantra it seemed I’d heard since birth.
I was a business major with a minor in legal studies, so my skill sets were easily applied to a variety of jobs. Ford was a strong company and had served my family well. Why not begin a second generation of men who would continue Dad’s legacy? Let’s go to work. You gotta go to work, man! It's all about the work.
