In the early years of my adulthood, I began living by the mantra "My time will come."
I knew deep down that I was destined for a greater calling, mainly in an occupational field.
The first time I ever took root in the real world, a.k.a. got a job, was as at a fading grocery store in a not-so-fancy part of town as an insignificant cashier.
Worst job ever. But I'm a firm believer that the rough times are the lessons that make you wise and get you through life.
Three jobs later, I sat behind the wheel of my car, slogging to work, dreading the day when I just knew, just knew that I was meant to be, to do, something bigger. I grasped this concept for two years.
It was always on my mind each 16-hour day, each 6-day work week.
Then, by chance (the kind of occurance that give you a divine revelation and proves there is a God) my time came.
I just so happened to approach a customer at my job who told me about a job opening I had no chance of landing. I got an interview, then another inverview and then that long-awaited phone call.
"We think you're the right choice for this position." I did it. Full time. Twice the pay. Benefits. Paid vacation and holidays. Monday through Friday. 8-5.
Aside from meeting my soul mate, finding the career meant for me was the single-most important event in my life to date. I got so lucky, but luck can't be the only factor that played into this. It was holding onto a belief and letting it capture my heart and mind so much that it guided me to where I am today.
I reached my destination.
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