I have always been considered a quitter.  Nonetheless, I feel I am only standing up for myself, taking advantage of the rights I was given at birth in this country.  Because America is the home of equality and justice,  why should I have to work any harder or deal with more uncomfortable conditions than the people above me?
When I was a child, I begged my parents to let me join the elite baton twirlers in Bonnie Blue Bells.  I was  excited because the Blue Bell girls rode in the parade every year through the narrow but noise filled Main Street of Belding.  My mother complained about the cost and my father complained about the time to drive me about.  I was told to stay home and watch the glowing, godly television because it was cheaper and less time consuming for them.  That started my tendency not to participate more than was necessary.  I was so used to sitting on my butt and watching sitcoms that it became hard to remember how to do anything else.
When I arrived at middle school, I had become so pudgy and lazy that I joined band (despite a complete lack of interest or talent in playing the trumpet) to avoid gym class.  I was embarrassed by my overweight body and afraid that the girls in the locker room would make fun of me in my orange gym uniform that smelled like my father's socks after a hard day of work.  My first year in high school, the concert band merged with the marching band; therefore I had to learn how to dance and move while playing (my playing was bad enough itself). To prepare for lugging the shiny, squeaking instruments around the football field during half time, we had to do push-ups, sit-ups, crunches, and go running.  I quit on the first day.
When I was a little bit older, I joined the cheerleading squad.  I felt I was so cool when I made the team.  I tried my hardest in that sport because I thought I would gain something from it, at least a few friends.  Back then I never tried to analyze people before I wanted to be like them; I saw only the image or aura of accomplishment and greatness, the same thing most kids see when they look at who they consider better than themselves.  Cheerleading taught me that people are not great simply because they are popular or do well at everything.  Every single person is just that, another person.  They are a little more celebrated, but experiencing the wretched tribulations of puberty.  I realized that I no longer liked anyone much; not just the "uncool" kids, but the ones I used to want to be as well.
One year later, I had lost some of my "baby fat" and gained some new ideas; but I was going about my goals the wrong way.  I liked to fight authority; I had fallen in with a bad crowd because they made me feel better about myself by making me think that everyone else was lower than we.  I became an alcoholic and quit my first job at the sole grocery store in town so I could party all of the time instead.  My previously impeccable grade record started to flail; half of the time I could hardly drag my hung-over self out of bed to show up at school.  It didn't seem like anything was worth doing in that tiny hick loving town except to drink or watch TV (and I felt I had done enough of that for two lifetimes).
Eventually, that lifestyle led to sex with people I didn't know and drug consumption.  I couldn't trust anyone but I didn't want to stop.  Looking back, I know that my principal meant only to straighten us out, to help reconstruct the future we were destroying.  Then I couldn't stand the "oppression" of it though, and tried going to the alternative school they called B.A.S.E.  I started fighting with my best friends there and dropped out of school altogether.  An entire year of my life had been lost to stupidity and quitting.
The semester after that I re-enrolled at Greenville Senior High because that's where my new friends attended and I would be allowed to dye my hair (always something to make or break a deal for me).  I stayed in school this time, barely skipping by but making it, with an honor cord no less.  I had fixed my school habits, realizing how important it was, not only to look well or do well, but also to know how to learn and to desire to learn.
I graduated a year late, but had dropped out of school for only one semester, so after another semester off I actually walked down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance.  I figured now would be as good a time as any to start working.  Most of my extra money through school had gone to alcohol and drugs at first, then clothes, makeup, and cigarettes that spent it but were unnecessary.  I had no car, very little job experience, even less skill or talent, and absolutely no idea what responsibility really meant.
Belding is not the window of opportunity.  Few jobs were available there and even fewer that I wanted to work at.  I started at the apple factory because the wages were the best I could find.  However, I came home every day in pain, aches shooting up and down my back and legs from hauling, lifting, sorting, and bagging apples.  The constant smell of apples clinging to my clothes and body nauseated me.  Some people who had worked at the same place for ten or more years told me that the pain from working was not something you became used to; it would always hurt.  One woman used to work at a vinegar factory and the chemicals had rotted out a part of her nostril.  She received no compensation and it never healed.  I was scared right away from that place, quitting within five days.
Next I tried employment at a little pizza place.  How hard is it to make pizza?  My first day there happened to be my last.  The managers screamed at me for any mistake, calling me stupid for every little thing that I didn't catch onto right away.  I couldn't believe that it could be so hard to find a job that I liked.  People were making it even more difficult on me.  Of course, I've never really been a big fan of people since my cheerleading days.
After the pizza place, I tried Subway.  It looked easy as well and it was, once I'd become used to it.  Nonetheless, my boss was incorrigible.  He came to work drunk and yelled at us for each and every little thing that we took too long doing.  I had only been there a week when they had me close by myself.  I was fine with that but the next day when I came in, little notes were always left around accusing me of taking cigarette breaks in between every job I had to do.  He claimed I couldn't have taken so long to close the store otherwise.  Every time I read one of those, I felt like hitting him in the face.  Finally, I just stood up for myself and told him that I hadn't been smoking at all after the store closed.  He refused my explanations and I told him to shove it, walking right out the door.  No one treats me without respect if I don't have to take it.
Now I have an apartment to pay for and I am more aware of how important a job is.  Still, last week my managing position at Burger King North was lost because I thought that my boss was unfair.  He and I had become friends of a sort and his girlfriend blew things out of proportion, claiming that he liked me, and spent all of his time with me instead of her.  No matter how much of a friend he had become, I couldn't pretend it was a coincidence when they broke up and my hours were cut in half the next day.  This time I made sure I had another job lined up, and I quit again.
I try not to quit everything I start.  I know that it looks bad on my records.  I just cannot bring myself to believe that it is correct to be miserable for a job, or for schooling, and especially not because of the way other people make you feel.  Alternatives exist for every situation, I have found; other options are always available so you do not have to work around people and their ignorance's unless you really want to. 
My mom helps me to justify it.  She makes me feel as if I am doing the right thing, almost defying the corruption of authority.  She says to me, "Gerin, honey, I am so proud of you.  The way you stood up for yourself at that job, I could never do that."  Therefore, I can almost feel like a hero, singing in the streets and spreading the word that you do not have to stand for discrimination, inequality, or put-downs.  You are in America and they make it easy to find alternative means of schooling and income if you find it difficult to accomplish your goals the conventional way.