You just gotta think of it as a means to the end and remind yourself that, like so many things in our lives, it's only temporary. Just like you're doing. It's not easy, but it's the best way, considering the alternative is to sit around jobless and talk about 'someday' which will then never come.
This mentality let me spend 2 years clearing brush. After the thrill of working outside wore off and the wet-and-rainy/snowing-and-freezing season set in, I can't count how many times I wished I was one of you retail people working in a nice, warm, dry shopping center with a coffee maker only arms length away
But it was a means to an end. I was just doing it until I found a fire/ems job. It was frequently miserable. The summers were hot and sweaty, and it seemed every other day featured us being chased around the woods by swarms of bees pouring out of the ground from their hellish little lairs. The fall was wet with nowhere to get dry, and the closest thing to comfort we had was eating lunch next to a burning pile of brush and tree slash. Cold chowder and soggy sandwhiches. Luxury was a thermos of hot coffee and soup cooked in the can at the edge of the fire. Relief was quitting time, followed by an hour or two of sitting wet and silent in the pickup for the drive home, brooding over our lot in life and wondering if there could be anything else, and longing for the simple comfort of stripping down, drying off, putting on something comfortable and laying in front of the fire place or heater, or taking a warm shower and a nap. And yet by the same token, we held ourselves with some regard. We might not have liked the work, but at least we
did work. Just as people of the 50s held Soviets and Communism as villains and a threat, it was our impression that we were surrounded on all sides by a welfare state, exploited by thousands who were simply lazy and living on our backs. In that light, we respected ourselves and each other despite all else, regardless of the drama that sometimes permeated a group of five guys frustrated and grouchy in the middle of the woods.
After the wet season, winter would set in in full force. For a few weeks we could cut brush in the snow and continue burning, but eventually the snow would be too deep for us to be effective. Unemployment was suddenly worse than any rainy day or bee swarm. Laying around with nothing to do and a tight budget until Spring came, or until enough snow fell for us to have work shoveling roofs and boat docks, lest they collapse and sink.
Despite this, the days were tolerable because I knew I wouldn't -have- to do it anymore once I landed my self a spot on a department somewhere. Now that I'm there, I could probably work a couple days clearing brush here and there, because it's an optional way to make more money and not an obligation.
So yeah.
Keep on truckin', you'll get where you want to be
It just makes your goal seem that much nicer when you reach it. It's these shitty, soul-sucking jobs that make us tough. They make us grateful for that which is good, and realize that when we reach what we've truly worked for, we have genuinely earned it. I think that's a philosophy lost on a lot of my generation; the Entitlement Generation. I find it saddening.