Growing up as the baby girl in the family between my household, I was known as the spoiled child also known as “Shizhe’e Ciqala” which means daddies little one. Me having that title in my family I always got what I wanted until I became the age seventeen. Once I turned that age, my dad said the words that no spoiled child wants to hear, he told me to get a job. The day he said that, I really did not know what to do or how to even react. I was never used to working for whatever I wanted; I just received it. When I was in high school, we did not have a dress code, which means that we were free to dress, however we wanted so like any other teenager I wanted the baby phat jeans, apple bottoms and the Luis Vitton bag bookbag. I always relied on my dad to give it to me. I was the one that always looked forward to going school clothes shopping so I could pick out the most popular fashion. At this time, my siblings all had jobs so they never relied on my parents to give them money, so I was the only one that did. As a teenager, getting a job was the last thing on my mind to do. I never seen a job as a big deal until my dad told me to get one. For the rest of that day I walked around with an attitude and said nothing to him for a couple days. One day my dad sat me down and gave me one of his famous speeches. He asked me how I think my favorite rappers and singer at the time Nelly, Bow Wow, Beyonce and all those other people are living large rocking the newest fashion. My response was I don’t know they are famous so they have money given to them, and he just shook his head in disquest and I laughed as though it was a joke. Then I tried to save myself and said, they perform and work hard for their money. He told me that I finally got it and he then compared me to them and told me that if I worked I could look like Beyonce, knowing that she was my favorite artist ever. I must that it was a good bribe.
I finally got a job at the superamarket in my neighborhood called Giant, where all the teenagers seemed to work at. My job was a casheir and that meant that I stood on my feet for six hours a day and Sundays I worked eight. I came home tired, stiff and with body aches, but the checks every week was worth it. I was able to purchase a couple pairs of jeansand sneakers every Friday.
I got out of the mindset of being a spoiled little girl and become an independent young ladie that worked and is still working hard for what I want. I will always be “Shizhe’e Ciqala” to my dad and nothing will ever replace that coming straight from his mouth. This I believe that hardwork is the key to success.