I must respond to the following quote in a personal manner. "Difficulty need not foreshadow despair or defeat. Rather achievement can be all the more satisfying because of obstacles surmounted."
I picked up the bottle of disinfectant, grabbed the roll of paper towels, and reluctantly walked over to the massive steel refrigerator. I knew what awaited me as soon as I opened that heavy door: food-encrusted corners, rusty iron racks, and probably a few unidentified substances plastered on the floor. Hesitantly, I rolled up the sleeves of my volunteer jacket and embarked upon a journey through filth and grime. It was a typical Saturday morning in the hospital cafeteria.
Four hours, one hundred clean dishes, fourteen dusted lamps, twelve scrubbed tables, and five polished windows later, I completed my volunteer duties at the Hospital of Central Connecticut-well, for that week at least. I knew I would be returning to kitchen duty the following Saturday, and my sense of pride and accomplishment would turn into dread as the week progressed. I would sometimes ask myself, "Why don't I just quit?" It was a simple solution. Yet, something kept bringing me back-week after week, month after month-and it certainly wasn't the hairnet or the smell of Lysol in the morning. Although some of my motivation came from helping others, a great deal of it arose from the fact that no one believed I would last more than thirty minutes in such an environment. Everyone doubted me: my parents, my brother, my friends, and even myself. I'll admit I was initially put off by the reek of vegetable barley soup and dishwasher detergent, but I came to realize that if I could handle swim practice, cello solos, and Shakespeare, then cleaning a cafeteria shouldn't be a problem. So every Saturday at 8:30 AM, I rolled up my sleeves and cleaned that refrigerator with the determination to prove myself to all the nonbelievers. Indeed, this job was far from glamorous, but that is what made my accomplishment worthwhile in the end.
Please don't hesitate to be harshly critical!
Any opinions are appreciated!
I picked up the bottle of disinfectant, grabbed the roll of paper towels, and reluctantly walked over to the massive steel refrigerator. I knew what awaited me as soon as I opened that heavy door: food-encrusted corners, rusty iron racks, and probably a few unidentified substances plastered on the floor. Hesitantly, I rolled up the sleeves of my volunteer jacket and embarked upon a journey through filth and grime. It was a typical Saturday morning in the hospital cafeteria.
Four hours, one hundred clean dishes, fourteen dusted lamps, twelve scrubbed tables, and five polished windows later, I completed my volunteer duties at the Hospital of Central Connecticut-well, for that week at least. I knew I would be returning to kitchen duty the following Saturday, and my sense of pride and accomplishment would turn into dread as the week progressed. I would sometimes ask myself, "Why don't I just quit?" It was a simple solution. Yet, something kept bringing me back-week after week, month after month-and it certainly wasn't the hairnet or the smell of Lysol in the morning. Although some of my motivation came from helping others, a great deal of it arose from the fact that no one believed I would last more than thirty minutes in such an environment. Everyone doubted me: my parents, my brother, my friends, and even myself. I'll admit I was initially put off by the reek of vegetable barley soup and dishwasher detergent, but I came to realize that if I could handle swim practice, cello solos, and Shakespeare, then cleaning a cafeteria shouldn't be a problem. So every Saturday at 8:30 AM, I rolled up my sleeves and cleaned that refrigerator with the determination to prove myself to all the nonbelievers. Indeed, this job was far from glamorous, but that is what made my accomplishment worthwhile in the end.
Please don't hesitate to be harshly critical!
Any opinions are appreciated!