Your leg is dirty

Let's get something straight.  I'm not doing this job to get rich.  If I wanted or needed loads of money, I would have stayed in the position I was in.  I would make my Masters degree work for me.  I would not be volunteering one day a week and I would not be working for free for a year and a half starting up a non-profit.  Nor would I have contacted the owner of the bike taxi company and asked to work a few shifts a week for a few dollars a day.  

So, to the former co-worker who pulled up to me in a work vehicle yesterday and said, "Really?? Really?? THIS is what you're doing.  Ewww. Your leg is dirty!!!" Yes.  Really. Really.  I happen to enjoy the bike chain grease that looks like a cool tattoo on my leg.  I'm sorry that you have to go back to your office and sit at your desk because obviously you are miserable.  And no, I'm not saving for a vacation, I happen to enjoy doing what I do and am glad to earn a few bucks doing it.  I feel sorry for anyone who can't say the same thing every minute of the day.

It's baffling to me the stigma that comes with taking a job like this.  People have asked if I'm embarrassed, if my husband is embarrassed.  Why would either of us be embarrassed? Thankfully, my husband loves me enough to want to see me happy.  I'd be more embarrassed if he made me stay at a job that was not my passion.  And quite frankly, Mr. Suit Finance guy I met last night, it's none of your business how we pay the bills. Maybe we don't live beyond our means and haven't been living beyond our means like the rest of America. You are not my financial advisor and after that comment, I don't think you ever will be.

Change of gears (no pun intended).  Obviously this particular evening started off a little rough as I pondered how some folks just don't get it.  But in no time, I was enjoying the company of wonderful people who were consuming culture, food and wine at the monthly gallery walk around town.  I picked up a gentleman who had probably an hour long commute from one side of the river to the other and back each day.  He made it there by way of bus, bike and foot. Every day. Today he paid a few bucks to shorten that commute and I learned his wife's name was the same as mine.  I drove a group of girls my age around to the galleries and was touched when one ran back inside and came out with a cup of sangria just for me.  It turned out to be a lovely evening.