I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked some really lousy jobs in my life. Remember that show that used to be on, Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe? The premise of the show was that Mike Rowe would travel around to do some of the dirtiest jobs in the world. I watched a few, and although I didn’t see any of my previous places of employment, I’m pretty sure at least one or two of the businesses where I’ve punched a clock must have been featured at some point.

I’ve rustproofed cars, spraying this sticky black tar-like stuff onto the underside of cars—and as part of that job, I’d periodically have to get down in the drainage trough hip-deep and scoop out all the nasty rustproofing material and other chemical runoff so the owner didn’t get fined for letting it drain into the sewers. Yeah, that was fun.

I’ve worked as a telemarketer, a hospital caterer, and a press operator stamping out clutch plates for car parts manufacturers who supply the Big Three in Detroit. I worked for one summer making retainers and other dental devices. I’ve worked at a bread factory, a flooring manufacturer, and a medical device plant. I’ve delivered pizzas for Domino’s and wore a powder-blue polyester double-knit uniform when I worked at McDonalds. I’ve been an assistant manager at Speedway, a seasonal delivery helper at UPS, and a framer for a building contractor. I managed a youth basketball league, worked as a janitor, assembled fishing lures, and sold Cutco knives.

One of my favorite commercials of all time aired about ten years ago. It was for the jobs site, Monster.com.

If you saw it, you probably remember it. It’s shot in black and white, and features a parade of fatalistic looking kids from about seven to eleven years-old, looking into a camera and talking about their future plans:

“When I grow up, I want to file all day.”

“I want to claw my way up to middle management.”

“Be replaced on a whim.”

“I want to have a brown nose.”

“I wanna be a ‘yes’ man.”

“Yes woman.”

“Yes, sir. Coming sir. Anything for a raise, sir.”

“When I grow up, I want to be under-appreciated.”

A little girl says, “I want to be paid less for doing the same job.”

Another little girl says, “I want sunshine blown up my dress.”

The screen goes black, and the words “What did you want to be?” pop up.

Now, the point I’m trying to make isn’t that doing dirty jobs is beneath our dignity, or that it’s something that talented people shouldn’t ever be saddled with doing. If Buddhism teaches us anything, it’s that there’s meaning to be found in the simplest and least glamorous of tasks.

No, the point is that—though we should never consider any work beneath us—we have to be honest (just as a matter of simple social observation) about the fact that almost no one grows up wanting to rust proof cars or a climb the vocational ladder to “telemarketer.”

Turns out, children don’t actually aspire to the prospect of spending their lives clawing their way up to middle management.

We live in a culture that values money, power, and beauty. If you want to get ahead in this world, our culture is quick to let you know just who you need to be, what kind of job you need, how much money you should have in your bank account, and when you get the right amount of all of it, just what kind of makeup or facial you need to possess to be able to keep it.