Overtime has crippled my old frail body.
I can literally feel my back crackling every time I lift a patient.
Eight hours a day and six days a week I clock-in. This workroom floor is all I know.
I can even remember the first day I started. I remember I caught a flat in the parking lot and one of my coworkers helped me get home.
I can tell our administrative team is having financial problems this year because they didn’t pass out gift cards for the holidays.
Every year I see the same look on my kids’ faces praying that their father brings home some holiday blessings.
I’ve sacrificed everything for my children, they hug me when I’m off to work in the morning. They’re always eager to show me their good grades. Every ounce of work that I give to this job is for them. I love my family; therefore, I work for them, and not for my boss or even myself. I work to keep them happy, I work to keep them fed, and I work to keep clothes on their backs.