Every nail equaled a penny. It may not seem like much, but I was sent out with my nail bucket whenever my dad took me to his job site. I was a trendy four-year-old, with my miniature tool belt.
The nails that I was sent after were the rejects, or the ones that didn’t make it into the house. They were scattered in the dirt and in between rocks. My job was important, so no one would step on or drive over one of the rejected nails.
As the years went on, I was given jobs with greater responsibility. I was no longer in charge of picking up discarded nails, instead I was in charge of securing hurricane clips. All according to code, in case a hurricane ever hits western Washington. No longer fitting my miniature tool belt, I was given safety glasses and ear plugs, a paper bag full of nails, and a palm nail-gun.
Starting on the job site as low on the totem pole as I could, and rising up taught me to respect hard work. Hard work requires a determined mindset to finish out a task. Knowing what it feels like to do the mindless task of picking up nails and putting them in a bucket for hours, makes me appreciate the people that complete the little tasks that will usually be unnoticed.