| In our society the razor of necessity
cuts close. You must make a buck to survive the day. You must work to.
make a buck. The job is often a chore, rarely a delight. No matter how demeaning
the task, no matter how it dulls the senses or breaks the spirit, one must work.
Lately there has been a questioning of this "work ethic", especially by the
young. Strangely enough, it has touched off profound grievances in others
hitherto silent and anonymous. Unexpected precincts are being heard from in a show of discontent by blue collar and white. On the evening bus the tense, pinched faces of young file clerks and elderly secretaries tell us more than we care to know. On the expressways middle-management men pose without grace behind their wheels, as they flee city and job. In all, there is more than a slight ache. And there dangles the impertinent question: Should there not be another increment, earned though not yet received, to one's daily work—an acknowledgment of a man's being? In fact, what all of us are looking for is a calling, not just a job. Jobs alone are not being enough for people. |