Suppose I acquired my work ethic at a very young age of 4 years old. My grandparents had a coffee in RI. As soon as we had the opportunity, we meant the younger, my older sister and my brother, who was in the middle, worked every weekend in the cafeteria, tables, chairs, bathroom cleaning, dancing. Land, thermal socks, etc., from 8 am until noon, because the cafe opened and my grandmother did not want anyone to know her grandchildren worked there and every twenty five cents (My sister was 50 cents, because that was what happened to the We also work on card games every Sunday night until late at night, and we got home well after midnight and got up early to go to school Monday morning, at the end of the night, card players circulated a boat and shared our tips so my "salary" weekend and tips Sunday, I saved enough to buy my first bike, because my parents could not afford this luxury, we were very poor, that means very poor, sometimes it was Ritz biscuits or salted milk for breakfast (sometimes very little milk).
When we grew up, we expected us to be very successful at school, usually at the top of our class. Since my two parents had not graduated from high school, expectations were placed on me and my brothers and sisters. And we have exceeded! I read the 3rd year in the 1st year and supervised other children. I even worked for the director of the sixth grade in his office when his secretary had lunch. Jr. High was the same, working very hard and moving toward the accelerated division after the seventh year. I took 9th grade classes and others I took only 11th grade. Then in high school. Many stimulating courses (chemistry, physics, even French 4, calculus ... just to name a few) while standing on the honor board and usually on the highest honor board. I completed the best 5% of my class, which was a very large public school with more than 350 graduates (seniors).
Not only do we work for my grandparents, my mother said we need to know how to do something. As a result, I can sew, weave, cook, bake, change a flat tire, paint, wallpaper. Call it, probably I can do it. I remember one night when my mother forced us to shovel the whole street so my dad had a parking lot when he stopped working. This work ethic was and is anchored in my being. I always wanted to earn my own money. My parents could not provide extras, I was determined to do it myself. I worked at Call-A-Teen at the age of 13. I cleaned the houses and took care of a woman who was tied to her bed. I helped her and her mother rinse the dishes, clean the garbage, and even change. All for a huge dollar an hour. I imagine it was an improvement of more than twenty-five cents for four hours of work!
In high school, I found a job as a waitress at Newport Creamery. I wanted to walk five miles to school, go to a restaurant with a waitress for four hours and then go home. (I know that sounds like what parents tell their kids, but that's 100% true!) I did not pay much time and advice was far from satisfactory, so it was time to look elsewhere. My sister worked at the Memorial Hospital in Pawtucket, RI, and encouraged me to file my application there. I did it and found a job in the diet department. It was about getting the trays to the patients and picking them up when they were done. It was a fast pace and I loved it. Although I had to work on weekends and holidays at the same time. For starters, it was just a guard room, but I thought it was a breakthrough and I gave it my all. Finally, they offered me a permanent part-time job and I was thrilled. Now I had the opportunity to earn a "real" salary and also the opportunity to move on. I move forward Many of my superiors appreciated my work ethic and my interest in learning, allowing me to move from one position to another. Finally, I was the ATM of the cafeteria, earned a lot of money and enjoyed all the benefits. The times were difficult for a high school student who began every Saturday and Sunday at 5:30 pm and ended at 2:30 pm, and who also started working on some afternoons / evenings after school. Again I bought my first car with this hard work. The maximum freedom! (I had to take a taxi to go to work).
This position lasted until graduation and part of the university. Before graduating, I applied to various universities. I did not know what I wanted to study, so I decided to go to Community College. I took lessons in almost everything. I wanted to try everything. Finally, I left the hospital and got a full-time job as a cashier. So I had to take lessons in the afternoon. Finally, I took a marketing course and the professor was Hasbro's marketing director. It was so inspiring. That's it, they sold me! I knew that I wanted to study marketing. Now I could combine my artistic side with my commercial side. A match in paradise!
Now was the time to put my efforts into my education. I applied and was admitted to Bryants. I was very happy! Full of energy and strength, I filled out all the grant forms and made an appointment to talk to someone from the grant bureau. I will never forget this day. I met with the deputy headmaster and was informed that he would not receive enough financial support who could not attend college and had to go elsewhere (the whole story echoed so badly my head, not even enough). Thank God for the resistance. All those years (and at 18 I seemed to be a lot) had taught me valuable lessons in life. It would not discourage me, there had to be a way.
This is the part of the whole circle of my story. I applied for a full time job at Bryant College. I got the job and started taking lessons for lunch (3 days a week), one night and lessons on Saturday. It was a difficult schedule. I left home at 8am and sometimes went home after 10pm. I even gave up the holidays to attend a summer school. This process lasted 6 years. I never lost sight of my goal. I have a BSc in Business Administration specializing in Marketing. He even listed the dean. Here's the best: the university paid for all my education, it did not cost me a penny. And, ironically, the department in which I worked? Not less than the grant office.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire