During my days off from consulting work I tend to schedule other work to help me stay in touch with reality. I love teaching people who want to learn, but not so much those who are forced to learn. My tennis student is that ideal client who enthusiastically listens when I instruct her to step into her ground strokes or stiffen her wrist for a more impactful volley.
Before each lesson she politely hands me a check her mother writes for $80 dollars. I thank her without opening up the folded check and quickly place it into one of my tennis bag’s many pockets to not make things awkward. We warm up from the service line and gradually work up a sweat until the sun goes down at 6pm.
I often wonder whether she feels $80 for 1.5 hours is a lot of money as a high schooler. To me $80 feels like a healthy sum, even though I’ve been working since 1994. Perhaps it’s exactly because she appreciates her parent’s support that she’s so enthusiastic about her lessons. I remember telling myself there was no way I would do poorly in college since my parents insisted on paying.
At the end of each lesson I always feel a sense of satisfaction to have put in the effort to make a little more money and help someone get better. Often times I don’t even want to cash the check because it’s a physical reminder of accomplishment. Little wins are savored until bigger bills come due.
Moose’s gas light lit up on the way home so I decided to fill him up with some premium fuel. By the time the gas tank was full the meter flashed $79.55. It is as if the gods were mocking me. Oh, how nice it is to walk away from an evening of hard work with a net profit of 45 cents. I laughed the spite off and stopped by the grocery store for a freshly squeezed container of orange juice for $6. There goes all my earnings and then some.