At the age of five, I learned to despise being “on the clock”. It started in 1st grade at lunch. We had a set time for lunch which included recess. At the end of this, a bell would ring and we had to hustle back into school.
Later, in middle school, we had computer tone “bells”. These would ring when we were allowed to enter school, when class ended, when the day ended etc. Exactly 3.5 minutes later a second tone would ring, indicating you were late for class. I spent 6th-8th grade frantically racing from floor to floor to not be late for class.
The worst was at the start of the day, when all the “ghetto” buses, including mine, dropped us off in the lower parking lot. Security wouldn’t open the doors until the first bell rang. Then we had to race up 6 fights of jam packed stairs, stuff our coats in our lockers, get our books and make it to homeroom in 3.5 minutes. Second worst, was after gym class. We’d be dismissed at the bell then had to change, then run up 5 flights of stairs to make it to our next class in 3.5 minutes. It was nearly impossible to make it on time to class after gym.
High school was slightly better. My school was built in the 1920’s Pittsburgh Penitentiary Style. It was a three story building with four wings connected in a big square. In the center of the square was a courtyard packed with smokestacks, boilers, and dumpsters for our viewing pleasure. But at least our bells were spaced 5 minutes apart, which allowed for us to walk from class to class, hit the water fountain or even spend a minute with friends in between classes. My life was dictated by the bell from 7:15am to 2:30 pm here for four years.
My first job was cleaning an industrial laundry facility. There were about 10 of us from my high school on my shift. We clocked in at 3 PM and worked until 5:30PM M-F. We had timecards and a punch clock. You were not allowed to punch in more than 3 minutes early. You were not allowed to punch out until 5:30 PM but absolutely no later than 5:37PM. This was to ensure the company didn’t pay a nickel extra of the $3.35/hr minimum wage they paid us.
After that job I worked at a pizza place delivering. I was paid $15/night plus tips. On weekdays I worked from 5-11ish. Friday and Saturday was 5-midnight. We’d work late if we had late orders. During lent, during holidays, and when we ran full page ads in the Pennysaver, I’d often arrive early and get started on a stack of orders waiting for delivery. I liked the freedom and flexibility of knowing I could be a few minutes late or early and wouldn’t be “docked”. I am 100% certain I worked more than my official hours here.
From there, I worked a series of hourly jobs including Assistant Teacher, Bike Messenger, Warehouse Worker, and Lifeguard. Each of these jobs tracked time on a paper timecard. This was better than punching a time clock and I was never late. But I still resented the stress of getting to work at a specific time.
Finally, when I started at the Pittsburgh Computer Store, things began to change. I was paid a small hourly wage, but the real money came from doing deliveries for a commission and then making real commissions when I moved into sales. Each month I submitted my hours and commission report to accounting, but nobody paid any attention to 15 minutes here or there or how long a lunch I took. I could run to the the urgent care when I needed a prescription. If my wife was downtown, I could take a long lunch. It didn’t matter, I was paid for a base of 40 hours. Most weeks I worked Saturday too. Those extra 6 hours were not paid as overtime. It didn’t matter to me.I thrived on being treated like a salaried professional instead of a laborer on an assembly line.
For the rest of my professional career I was on salary plus commission. Some jobs I worked 60-80 hours a week. Others were 35-40. Most were around 60 plus some time on the weekends. All of my employers got more than their money’s worth of time (and more importantly, of sales and profits).
When I launched my consulting business in 2017, I refused to do hourly work. I knew the projects I did would consume days, so why commit to some hourly rate and then get nickel-and-dimed about each hour billed?
I would quote a fixed project price based on an estimate of days required. Occasionally a prospect would ask for an hourly rate and I’d explain my method. If they insisted on a hourly rate I’d say OK – $250 per hour, 4 hour minimum. I never landed any of those prospects, which was fine by me (and them).
So now I’m retired. I no longer have to punch a clock. And yet, as I’ve done my entire life, I live according to a fairly rigid, predictable schedule. I wake at the same time every day. I workout for the same amount of time. I hit the pool at the same time. I eat at the same time. Occasionally, I deviate from my schedule to accommodate weather, chores, and appointments – but only when absolutely necessary.
But man is it nice to be off the clock. If traffic makes me late, if I spend 30 minutes dawdling in the morning reading, or if a project requires 3 trips to Home Depot and sucks up half a day, it really doesn’t matter much if I’m running late.
Now that I think of it, it never mattered much if I was ever running a few minutes early or late. Whether it was to school or work, was it really so important to be on schedule? It’s not as if I was working on a Six Sigma assembly line.
Here’s what typically happened right after punching in:
- At school, we’d sit in our assigned seats and the teacher would take roll. If it was homeroom, we’d do the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag and listen to 10 minutes of announcements over the intercom. If it was a class, no teaching began for at least five minutes because the students would be greeting each other, getting out their books, turning in homework etc.
- At blue collar jobs, we’d batter the day chatting with each other and gearing up as we checked the day’s schedule – we would check our masks, mops, buckets, box cutters, tape, pens, bikes, helmets, tools and work orders.
- At white collar jobs, we’d be easing into the workday. Getting coffee, chatting with coworkers, waiting for the computer to boot up, checking emails from last night and looking at the schedule for the day.
So I spent half of my life on the clock for no good reason, As will most of us.
It all seems kind of silly.