Volume 4, Issue 26: The Plains

"It's hard to get used to feeling useful when you never get over feeling used."

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The question I receive most often—from friends, colleagues, editors, neighbors, family members, I imagine even dogs are thinking it—is how do you get all this stuff done? I cannot vouch for the quality of my writing, or my parenting, or my reputation, or even my character, but I can certainly confirm that I do indeed make a lot of stuff. I like to work. Working makes me happy.

It has become, of late, weirdly unfashionable to be productive, as if working a lot and executing every project to completion is somehow soulless toiling for the capitalist man—as if laboring hard is somehow disrespectful to labor. Freddie deBoer has done an excellent job of debunking this idea, the notion that working hard makes you some sort of corporate tool, or even a sucker, but it persists. I understand this in the macro sense. Much of the work we do, whatever our profession, ends up compiled and packaged into a line item on a corporate balance sheet, ultimately not valued, or even considered, as anything more than a tiny bit of busy-ness tossed into a gaping maw. The pandemic surely exacerbated this notion, with millions of people tossed into sudden idleness and discovering either that all that work they’d been doing seemed awfully pointless now and maybe, even, that they enjoyed that idleness. Why the hell are we doing all this shit for these people who don’t care about any of it? Why work so hard when the world is falling apart?

Putting aside the inherent disconnect of the idea—someone, somewhere, has to make all the things you’re consuming rather than producing, someone without the privilege of asking questions like “Hey, why do I have to work?”—I think it fundamentally misunderstands the actual value of work on a personal level. The thing about work is that it’s hard. Maybe it’s hard because it’s inherently difficult or challenging, maybe it’s hard because it takes a long time to complete, maybe it’s just hard because it’s boring and you’d rather be doing something else. But the one time it is not hard is when it is finished. The joy of work is in that completion: A project, a task, an event, a widget. Something that did not exist before that now does, and it does so because of you. It’s exhausting, of course, and it can ultimately feel pointless if (and when) other people do not place the value on your toil the way that you do. But that does not mean you did not do something. That does not mean it does not have value to you. To have begun a project and finish it is as fundamental to human life as eating or breathing. It is part of our very natures. The joy of watching your child build something with Legos, or draw a picture, or walk across the room by themselves lies in the fact they have done something. The final “value” of what they have done is beside the point. Had they not been using the Legos that structure would have not been built; had they not drawn that picture there’d be an empty page; had they not walked across the room they’d still be sitting in the same spot they were in the first place. They made a Lego car; they scooped out part of their brain and put it on a page; they moved. You have to do things. We only get to do this once. You have to make your mark on the world.

And you do this through work. This does not necessarily mean you have to do this through your job, though certainly figuring out a way to do something elemental and human while getting paid for it is an ideal pursuit. But there has to be some value in your time—some purpose. Time expended in the process of creation—whatever that creation is—is never time wasted. This is true even if you don’t like your job! I’m fortunate enough to like mine now, but, I assure you, this has not always been the case. When I was young and very poor in New York City, I spent several months floating from temp job to temp job, gigs as varying as carting handtrucks packed with packaged T-shirts around Manhattan to answering phones for Telemundo. (The job dispatcher assured me that morning that you did not need to be able to speak Spanish to answer phones for Telemundo, but I can now reliably inform you that you do, in fact, need to be able to speak Spanish to answer phones for Telemundo.)

One week, I had a job stuffing envelopes with coupons and vouchers for some sort of theater company. The previous week, I had spent alone in my apartment—with my roommates out all day actually doing something with their time—feeling horrible about myself. That week, though, I was the greatest envelope stuffer that theater company had ever seen. Was I doing something for a greater larger cause? No. Was I a part of exploited temp labor for a business too cheap to hire actual employees? Yes. But in the moment, that wasn’t the point. The point was that I had a job to do, and I did it. At the end of the day, I felt great. I honestly did. I think I made eight bucks an hour. But they were my eight bucks. I felt so much better having done something with my day—even something pointless, and to no greater virtue—than if I had done nothing. That’s work. That’s what work is.

A lot of this is a matter of perspective. It is easier to enjoy a job like stuffing envelopes when you know that it is temporary; had I been stuffing envelopes every day for the last 30 years at eight bucks an hour, I’d surely be a little more surly about it. But I’d also argue one’s personal mien goes a long way here too. Work is hard and difficult and exhausting because life is hard and difficult and exhausting. And like life, how you get through work may rely quite a bit on your attitude coming into it. If you consider it something you’re going to have to endure, if you constantly think of it as some cruel indignity that has been foisted upon you, you’re going to have a harder time getting through it than someone who attempts to find some value and purpose in it. Your job or your work should not be your self-worth; life-work balance is an issue for everyone, even people who love their jobs. (Especially people who love their jobs.) But you should feel good, and proud, of accomplishments, of being able to work with others, of finding some self-fulfillment in success, both macro and micro, regardless of their place in the large universe. My father worked for 40 years as a substation electrician; my mother worked for 30 years as an emergency room nurse. There were surely days, weeks, months, maybe even years, when their jobs got them down, when they felt frustrated and inconsequential. But they got up and did them every day, with pride and purpose, with the understanding that there there was value in a hard day’s work and a paycheck well-earned, with the belief that their co-workers would respect them and never be able to say they didn’t do their absolute best with the time they had. Do I think that Ameren Illinois (previously Central Illinois Public Service Company), my father’s company, was appropriately appreciative of the years he put in? Do I think the profit that dad’s toil made for them was for the greater good? I do not. But I also do not think that is what is important. What is important is that Dad was good at his job and cared about being good at his job. Because you care about being good at your job, and you are good at your job, you have gotten what you wanted. You have not gotten everything you have wanted; there is, it turns out, life outside your job. But finding satisfaction and fulfillment from your job is not something to apologize for. It’s something to aspire to.

I have met people with money, with every privilege imaginable, people who have never once had to worry about material possession in their lives. And they fall neatly into two groups: The people who used that financial freedom to do something with purpose—whether that’s running their family’s company, or living a life of charitable contributions, or simply just choosing a field they cared about and pursuing a life in it—and those who just did the absolute minimum with their lives because there was no pressure for them to do otherwise. Without fail—it’s not even close—the first group is profoundly happier and more fulfilled than the second group. You have to do things. Nothing you have in your life means anything if you didn’t do something to make it happen.

So much of this is good fortune, of course. The good fortune of having a job you enjoy, of being able to get that job in the first place (which is often a product of privilege itself), of having a support system that allows you the freedom to enjoy your job and also enjoy your life. This is undeniable. But I do believe that it is also undeniable that human beings want to feel productive, and helpful, and useful. There is strength, power and direction in a job well done. We should all feel pride in a hard day’s work, in many cases independently of who it’s ostensibly “for.” Because at the end of the day: I think it’s for us. It’s OK to like your job. It is, after all, yours.

Here is a numerical breakdown of all the things I wrote this week, in order of what I believe to be their quality.

1. My Fun Derek Jeter Story, New York. I’ve been telling friends this story for years, it was time for readers to hear it.

2. My Interview With “Thank You for Your Servitude” Author Mark Leibovich, Medium. Every book of his is great, but this one is really great.

3. I Wrote the Backpage Column in the All-Star Game Program, MLB Publications. Pick up a copy!

4. Mask Mandates Aren’t Helping Anyone Anymore, Medium. I don’t mind wearing masks! I want to help! But no one’s listening anymore, and we should stop pretending they are.

5. The Thirty: Second Half Predictions For Each Team, MLB.com. I love predictions because no one ever remembers them.

6. Home Run Derby Participants, Ranked, MLB.com. I was just happy to see Albert in this.

7. I Also Wrote about Baseball Movies in the All-Star Game Program, MLB Publications. I did get to mention The Naked Gun in this.

8. The Thirty: The Best Player Drafted by Every Team, MLB.com. I cannot get over how young Jackson Holliday looks. He’s a 14-year-old with bear hands.

9. Your Friday Five, Medium. Will spends no time on this week-finisher at all, he just ranks things, what happened to him?

PODCASTS

Grierson & Leitch, no show this week.

Seeing Red, Bernie and I wildly speculate about which Cardinals aren’t vaccinated. (Some scary rumors out there about this, by the way.)

Waitin' Since Last Saturday, we’re back, starting a new season, it’s getting that time of year.

LONG STORY YOU SHOULD READ THIS MORNING … OF THE WEEK

“Is Abortion Sacred?” Jio Tolentino, The New Yorker. Holy shit, this piece.

ONGOING LETTER-WRITING PROJECT!

This is your reminder that if you write me a letter and put it in the mail, I will respond to it with a letter of my own, and send that letter right to you! It really happens! Hundreds of satisfied customers!

(I know I am behind on these, but I’m catching up this week. I mean it this time.)

Write me at:

Will Leitch
P.O. Box 48
Athens GA 30603

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO

“Bulls on Parade,” Rage Against the Machine. I just wrote about Rage a few weeks ago, and I think they vanished at exactly the wrong time, but man, I am not immune to this little reunion tour business. Careful: This song will melt your face!

Remember to listen to The Official Will Leitch Newsletter Spotify Playlist, featuring every song ever mentioned in this section.

This upcoming week here in Athens is the final week before school starts. Man they start early down here. (I love these children but am also ready for them to go back to school.)

Have a great weekend, all.

Best,
Will