The other day, I tried not to stare at the woman with long, scraggily hair streaked thickly with dull iron gray. She was studying the meat, the chicken, the rows of sausages at the store. I could see how she calculated the cost, how she looked at the prices and set them next to what was in her dollar store purse. It was sad. I finally looked away. I imagined that she felt she didn't belong on the pretty aisle.
Just after my father had passed away, I took a walk to the small factory down the street from where I grew up to inquire about a job. The building made noise and produced wood chips and saw dust, but what else, I couldn't say. I figured I could sweep up those chips, that saw dust. The big bearded man said I was too young, only ten, which is why I probably cried all the way home. I have since learned something from that event. My life since that point has consisted of me doing my best to earn money no matter how menial the chore. This attitude, this "I'll do it no matter how much you will pay me so long as it is something" way about doing business has, I have discovered, put me into a box of my own making. There are successful people out there who do not undersell their skills. They have a confidence about them that I, coming from a place of great need, have never had. I think it is time to reexamine how I rate my skills and how I value my...
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