Barbara J. Hamby

The Curse of the Work Ethic

For twelve years since my retirement, I’ve been trying to shake the work ethic curse—the one that causes me to evaluate my accomplishments at the end of each day. If nothing I’ve done looks measurable, then I feel guilty.

It doesn’t help that I have acquaintances, such as a Vietnam veteran who is a writer and vows to write 1,000 words a day. He has a lot to say and he does it well. He’s also considerably younger. Good for him.

However, I’m actually able to tell myself at the end of most days now, that I’m old and I’ve earned a rest. Also, I recently inventoried my collection of memoir stories and found that there are fewer gaps than I expected. I may actually get them finished in this lifetime.

I have to wonder about all the people out there who were, like myself, vaccinated with the work ethic at a young age, but can’t find a job, and aren’t eligible for retirement. Guilt about not working is probably the least of their worries.

I think probably all of my sisters have the same compulsion to do useful work. I’ve watched one do difficult volunteer jobs until she was nearly eighty. Another is still working part time for remuneration well past her retirement age. Both were or are doing work they love.

Many youngsters growing up today have had a lot handed to them in return for very little effort on their part. Maybe the work ethic compulsion won’t be part of their lives. Maybe that’s a blessing and maybe it’s their loss.

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