Pay my check

[T]ODAY I PUT a bow on another work week, for which I earned another check.

Tonight I thought about what a blessing it is to be able to type such a sentence in such crazy times.

I thought about some of the first checks I earned at my first job out of college, when I had a little bit of an idea about what I was doing in the newsroom and a lot of work ethic.

The work ethic was a gift from the people who raised me, and it has served me well.

The little bit of an idea of what I was doing came from a few months of internship work while I was in college at a great journalism school.

I was fortunate to be hired at the newspaper where I’d interned.

The growth I’d experienced because of the staff (who became my friends) there continued.

I feel like the seamless transition I had from college student to professional journalist gave me advantages.

Most of the new-job nervousness had evaporated by the end of my internship.

I knew what was expected of me and what it took to get the job done.

I wanted to contribute to the paper, but I wanted to earn my keep and my check.

The race to the bank at the end of the pay period to deposit my check before the bank closed was a thrill at first, but soon a win just meant more night-shift trips to the Waffle House.

I wrote many a story on my phone in a booth after a ham-and-cheese omelet with double hash browns, double covered.

Then I’d pay my check, go home, go to bed, wake up and work to earn the next one.

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This post is a response to Sue’s prompt, which is, “check.”