According to MSNBC, about 7.8 million Americans ‘“ or about one worker in every 20 ‘“ held more than one job. Caitlin Kelly, a freelance writer that gets regular assignments at The New York Times recently wrote about her part-time retail gig:

In one world, I interview C.E.O.’s, write articles for national publications and promote my nonfiction book. In the other, I clock in, sweep floors, endlessly fold sweaters and sort rows of jackets into size order. Toggling between the working class and the chattering class has taught me a lot about both: what we expect of ourselves, how others perceive us, ideas about our next professional step and how we’ll make it.

She is now a battered veteran of two holiday seasons. She’s also 20 to 30 years older than most of her colleagues, twice the age of her assistant manager and more than a decade older than her manager. She also writes that ‘œwhen you wear a plastic name badge, few bother to read it.’

I’ve worn a plastic name badge a number of times throughout my adult life. At the age of thirty, I worked the express counter at Kinkos as a way to supplement my income from a failing business venture that I focused on during the day. Even though I had a knack for making excellent color copies, it wasn’t hard to notice my disdain for my part-time employment choice.

I recall a friend saying that there shouldn’t be any humiliation in an honest day’s work. Easy to say when you’re not the one making minimum wage on Friday nights.

In the current economic calamity, I suspect that part-time jobs have become essential for many people to make ends meet. As stress and anxiety mounts, here’s another truism I found in Randy Pausch’s book:

Years ago, I dated a lovely young woman who was a few thousand dollars in debt. She was completely stressed out about this. Every month, more interest would be added to her debt.

To deal with her stress, she would go every Tuesday night to a meditation and yoga class. This was her one free night, and she said it seemed to be helping her. She would breathe in, imagining that she was finding ways to deal with her debts. She would breathe out, telling herself that her money problems would one day be behind her.

It went on like this, Tuesday after Tuesday.

Finally, one day I looked through her finances with her. I figured out that if she spent four or five months working a part-time job on Tuesday nights, she could actually pay off all the money she owed.

I told her I had nothing against yoga or meditation. But I did think it’s always best to try and treat the disease first. Her symptoms were stress and anxiety. Her disease was the money she owed.

‘œWhy don’t you get a job on Tuesday nights and skip yoga for a while?’ I suggested.

This was something of a revelation to her. And she took my advice. She become a Tuesday-night waitress and soon enough paid off her debt. After that, she could go back to yoga and really breathe easier.

He titled this story, Treat the Disease, Not the Symptom. These days stress and anxiety seem to be the plight of middle-income Americans. How are you treating the disease?

Photo credit: stock.xchng.