The downside to doing your best is that you get more jobs. There’s an old saying that if you want something done right, ask a busy person. They’re busy because they jump in and figure out what needs done, often seeing more effective and efficient ways to accomplish a task. They’re energetic and enthusiastic, and likely to take on your request, even though they are dead on their feet, because the word ‘no’ sticks in their craw.
One person said it this way: “Every day when I go to work, I’m interviewing for my next job.” I’ve been thinking a lot about jobs lately, maybe because there are so many businesses crying for help and working short staffed. The current situation in our country has made it evident that there are no unimportant jobs. The janitor is just as essential to keeping a hospital or office going as are the doctors and executives. Without the plumber and electrician, stores, schools and repair shops would never open their doors.
Busy people tend to overload their plates. As a kid, when I didn’t clean up my plate, I got the usual line from Mom about starving kids in China, (and why was it always China?) but my dad would say my eyes were bigger than my belly. The same error in judgement is often made by overachievers. They run on empty long before they realize they should have said no about three commitments ago. And running on empty makes it impossible to do our best, no matter how much we try. I had to learn this the hard way, and sometimes I still forget.
My children’s father could never understand why I always read the want ads. “Are you looking for a job?” he’d ask, knowing I already had several—keeping the house, fixing meals, doing laundry, supervising homework, and cooking for a crew, not to mention mowing the yard, milking the cows and helping in the corral and hayfield.
“You never know,” I’d answer, just to keep him guessing whether I was thinking of quitting the above and running off to an 8 to 5 lifestyle.
I still read the ads, and often think, “I could do that,” forgetting that I no longer can lift fifty pounds, and never liked bookkeeping. The trouble is that somewhere between childhood and the teen years I forgot how to play, and have spent most of the years since trying to recognize when I’m tired or have already overcommitted.
Balance is a tricky thing to achieve, but it happens now and then. My daughter sent me a sign that reads, “The answer is no,” and sometime I manage to say it. Today, I’ll accept my husband’s offer to do the dishes, read a book, and let myself doze off. Some ladies from my church gather monthly for Thursday Afternoon Group, a time of socializing and laughter. It’s fun, but I declined this time. I’m interviewing for my next job; retirement.