Foreword
I’m the best worker you’ll ever meet.
I should be good: I’ve had a lot of practice. I’m only fourteen, but I’ve known for as long as I can remember that you’ve got to do more than what’s expected if you want to get ahead. It’s a universal rule. A cosmic inevitability.
If you ask me, people who say you’ve got to work smart and not hard are just lazy.
I’m good because I give everything I do everything I’ve got.
See, people appreciate that kind of effort, and going the extra mile, I’ve found, always pays off.
“Kevin routinely applies himself, to the best of his abilities.” That’s what my teachers and counselors and coaches have always said. Whether it’s scissor skills (I cut the straightest edges in the history of the Golden Valley Preschool) or tie-dying in summer camp (I raided my family’s laundry basket and then twisted and rubber-banded and dyed everything white I could get my hands on—T-shirts, socks, shorts, my mother’s bras, pillowcases, dish towels) or playing T-ball (where, although I lacked batting strength and only played an okay third base, I kept up the chatter and made the rest of the team sharp), I always do my best.
My grades aren’t so amazing that people think I’m a prodigy or a cheat, but I’m in the top ten percent of my class and I always hand in a twelve-percent-higher page count than required for essay assignments. I’m the guy all my friends depend on to come up with a solid idea for what to do or crack a joke to lighten the mood. I’m the only person in my family who remembers to depoop our cat’s litter box, which doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is to anyone who’s ever smelled a ripe box.
Whatever I do, I do it well. Always have. It’s just how I am.
I’m not bragging or conceited, I’m just telling it like it is.
I’ve usually gotten exactly what I wanted because I’ve always been willing to work hard.
I have a knack for knowing what needs to be said and done.
But it’s easy to get into trouble with the details if you don’t stay focused on the big picture.
Even though I know better, I forgot that bit for a while. Until my life turned into something like creamed chipped barf and peas on toast.
1
The Successful Person Can Make Something from Nothing
I ’d recently found myself in a world of trouble, because I used to lie. To everyone. About everything. All the time. But only because I was really good at it and lying made so much sense. Until my friends, family and teachers all got mad at me and I had to come up with about a hundred creative ways to apologize.
Things are better now. Except for the fact that I’ve got a serious cash problem. As in: I’m not making any.
My parents are teaching me a lesson: Since you lied, we’re taking away your allowance for a month. And even my weekend job working for my Auntie Buzz at her interior decorating business wasn’t bringing in the money like it used to.
“Are you teaching me a lesson too? Because of the way I lied to you, um, to everyone?” I asked her after she told me I couldn’t work for her for a month.
“No. I’m just mad at you.”
I’m the kind of person who takes his punishment like a man, so I didn’t even try to argue with her.
A guy’s got to have some walking-around money, though, and I thought I could still count on babysitting money because I watch my four-year-old neighbor, Markie, once or twice a week. Markie was the only person I hadn’t lied to, so I figured that income was safe.
“Hi, Dutchdeefuddy,” Markie said, using his name for me. It means “best most favorite buddy in the world forever.” As we waved goodbye to his mom on Sunday, he asked, “What does bankrupt mean?”
Last week I’d had to explain “ ’vorces” to him because his parents were breaking up. And now, I guessed, going broke, too.
“What did you hear?” I asked. Markie might have the attention span of a fruit fly, but he’s got the hearing of a NASA
I’m the best worker you’ll ever meet.
I should be good: I’ve had a lot of practice. I’m only fourteen, but I’ve known for as long as I can remember that you’ve got to do more than what’s expected if you want to get ahead. It’s a universal rule. A cosmic inevitability.
If you ask me, people who say you’ve got to work smart and not hard are just lazy.
I’m good because I give everything I do everything I’ve got.
See, people appreciate that kind of effort, and going the extra mile, I’ve found, always pays off.
“Kevin routinely applies himself, to the best of his abilities.” That’s what my teachers and counselors and coaches have always said. Whether it’s scissor skills (I cut the straightest edges in the history of the Golden Valley Preschool) or tie-dying in summer camp (I raided my family’s laundry basket and then twisted and rubber-banded and dyed everything white I could get my hands on—T-shirts, socks, shorts, my mother’s bras, pillowcases, dish towels) or playing T-ball (where, although I lacked batting strength and only played an okay third base, I kept up the chatter and made the rest of the team sharp), I always do my best.
My grades aren’t so amazing that people think I’m a prodigy or a cheat, but I’m in the top ten percent of my class and I always hand in a twelve-percent-higher page count than required for essay assignments. I’m the guy all my friends depend on to come up with a solid idea for what to do or crack a joke to lighten the mood. I’m the only person in my family who remembers to depoop our cat’s litter box, which doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is to anyone who’s ever smelled a ripe box.
Whatever I do, I do it well. Always have. It’s just how I am.
I’m not bragging or conceited, I’m just telling it like it is.
I’ve usually gotten exactly what I wanted because I’ve always been willing to work hard.
I have a knack for knowing what needs to be said and done.
But it’s easy to get into trouble with the details if you don’t stay focused on the big picture.
Even though I know better, I forgot that bit for a while. Until my life turned into something like creamed chipped barf and peas on toast.
1
The Successful Person Can Make Something from Nothing
I ’d recently found myself in a world of trouble, because I used to lie. To everyone. About everything. All the time. But only because I was really good at it and lying made so much sense. Until my friends, family and teachers all got mad at me and I had to come up with about a hundred creative ways to apologize.
Things are better now. Except for the fact that I’ve got a serious cash problem. As in: I’m not making any.
My parents are teaching me a lesson: Since you lied, we’re taking away your allowance for a month. And even my weekend job working for my Auntie Buzz at her interior decorating business wasn’t bringing in the money like it used to.
“Are you teaching me a lesson too? Because of the way I lied to you, um, to everyone?” I asked her after she told me I couldn’t work for her for a month.
“No. I’m just mad at you.”
I’m the kind of person who takes his punishment like a man, so I didn’t even try to argue with her.
A guy’s got to have some walking-around money, though, and I thought I could still count on babysitting money because I watch my four-year-old neighbor, Markie, once or twice a week. Markie was the only person I hadn’t lied to, so I figured that income was safe.
“Hi, Dutchdeefuddy,” Markie said, using his name for me. It means “best most favorite buddy in the world forever.” As we waved goodbye to his mom on Sunday, he asked, “What does bankrupt mean?”
Last week I’d had to explain “ ’vorces” to him because his parents were breaking up. And now, I guessed, going broke, too.
“What did you hear?” I asked. Markie might have the attention span of a fruit fly, but he’s got the hearing of a NASA
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