My very first paying job – complete with actual paychecks as opposed to babysitting money – was at a local bagel shop. I was in high school, and earned $4.50 hour. This was twenty-five cents more than minimum wage, and I was thrilled.

My job mostly entailed working at the counter, taking orders, prepping and serving food, and working the cash register. When it was slow, I would clean anything I could find, including the bathrooms. When I was really bored, I would restock any available thing that needed restocking, like the napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers. I don’t like to be bored, so I tried to always keep moving.

There were two managers who typically worked when I did. One of them, Bob, was the man who hired me. He was my first impression of what a manager in a professional situation could be. Unfortunately, that impression was a bad one. This guy was lazy. I don’t think I ever saw him do any actual work. He would come in, sit in the manager’s office, and talk on the phone to his girlfriend the entire time, while the rest of us hustled out front.

Except…I soon realized that I was the only one hustling. If Bob was there, he certainly wasn’t paying attention or holding anyone accountable for doing their jobs, so my coworkers would slack off, too.

Sometimes, I got lucky and Patty was the manager. It was impossible to outwork this woman. She was a force. She would come into that shop and not stop moving the entire time. She didn’t just work the counter and keep things moving up front; she made sure to get the back in order, too. Some nights, this meant she wanted to deep clean the kitchen floors. My coworkers hated this, because it not only kept them there an extra hour, it kept them there to clean. Patty did not care. It was as if she was oblivious to the staff eye-rolling and huffing and puffing. She simply expected them to do their jobs.

When it was floor-cleaning time, we would first get everything off the floor that couldn’t get wet. Then, we would flood the kitchen with the hose. Water would get in every corner and crevasse that regular sweeping and mopping couldn’t touch. After that, took the real work: we each grabbed a mop and scrubbed and washed and wrung out and scrubbed and washed again. If you’ve ever done any type of industrial cleaning, you know that those mops were heavy. This was hard work. I loved it.

That first employment experience taught me a lot. I learned what it means to have a real work ethic, and what it looks like when you don’t. More than that, I saw the impact that one’s own work ethic could quickly have to those around you, especially if those people are subordinates.

I also learned to pay attention. At every job I have had since, I quietly look around. I seek out qualities in managers that motivate and inspire, and those that depress and demoralize. Over time, I hone my own approach at being both manager and managed, trying to be true to my own work ethic, and to practice what I have learned.