great job

Each day, I come to work to be bludgeoned, humiliated, spoken down to, talked about behind my back, ridiculed, unappreciated, and blamed.

It's thankless and it worsens exponentially every 24 hours. Trudging and bleak, I walk through the doors feeling like there's a 40 lb sack of shit draped over my shoulders. Yet I continue because it is entirely up to me to make sure my family is clothed and fed and happy. That's what keeps me going, and that is the only glimmer of light at the end of my day.

It is asssumed by my employer that I will continue to do this day in and day out without respite and without fail. I assume they will continue to pay me. There is no thanks, no praise, no merit for these monumental tasks. I will collect my paycheck and I will be happy to receive it.

And then, my life is given back to me in one small act by my almost 2 year old son. I get in the shower, clean my carcass, dry off and open the shower door to see him standing there watching me. I look at him and smile.

"Great job, Dad!" he says.

"Thank you son. Thank you."