Fifty Years on the Clock

After fifty years of clocking in, it finally hit me. I’ve been working since I was thirteen—scrubbing dishes at Woodfisher’s Seafood in DeLand for a buck twenty-five an hour—and I haven’t stopped since. Ten years in the Navy, decades more behind desks and deadlines. Somewhere along the way, “hardworking” stopped being a compliment and started sounding like a diagnosis. This isn’t about quitting. It’s about realizing I’ve already proved my point. Fifty years is enough.