Lessons from the liftman

“Third floor,” I told the liftman. I knew I would have loads of things to do the minute I enter office. “And the week’s just begun,” I sighed to myself.
Even as I was engrossed in my own thoughts, my mind wandered to the liftman who sat non-chalantly on a stool next to me. With the maddening heat and a group of seven people all squeezed in around him, the guy nonetheless sat all by himself, totally unperturbed.
How does he manage it boss, I thought to myself? All day long, he sits in that tiny space and hits buttons, occasionally asking people for their destinations. That’s about it. And then what about this feeling of claustrophobia? Doesn’t he ever have to deal with it?
Even as these thoughts crossed my mind, a jerk brought me back. I was on the third floor. As I entered office and sat on my desk, I felt like hugging every bit of work that lay on my table. I am in a profession that allows me to do what I love the most -- write! I am lucky enough to have a hobby turned into a profession. So what if there are times when the pressure is too much and what if there are a dozen deadlines to be met. On most days, I get a creative satisfaction that I would not want to trade with any amount of money. The liftman had just taught me to love my job all the more!