The Reciprocity Contract

You get what you give.

How many times have we heard this?

The reciprocity contract is as old as the hills. Wherever there has been connection, there has been this adage.

We are social beings, but we are also self-minded beings. We want to make sure that our needs are taken care of, but also that others don’t get the best of us.

Such a mentality is so widespread that it threatens to destroy trust. And so, we settle for an even exchange to keep the peace.

The fundamentals are simple. If we want anything from someone else, we must part with something deemed equivalent. This could be a physical item, a commitment of time, or an emotional investment.

We put a lot of value in these items. But the principle behind them rules the day.

Or perhaps not.


When I was a young boy, my father had a fancy job.

Every morning, he’d put on a suit and tie and catch the train to the city. He’d walk a few blocks from the train terminal to an office building, take the elevator to the 32nd floor, and spend the next 8 hours attending to the needs of clients.

This might sound glamorous and idyllic. It was anything but.

My father had no aspirations of climbing the corporate ladder. He didn’t dream of power lunches or access to exclusive country clubs.

No, my father wished for something else.

He yearned to do something creative. He aspired to impact his local community. He desired to be there for his two young children, who he barely saw during the week.

But this job paid well. It helped with the mortgage. It covered living expenses. It allowed our family to live the way we were accustomed to.

Those were outcomes that couldn’t be easily replaced. And so, my father kept putting on that suit and getting on that train.

My mother saw the toll this took on my father, and she couldn’t bear it. So, she gave him an ultimatum. Change your life or change your wife.

My father made the smart choice. He gave up that fancy job and decided to become a schoolteacher. With no formal training in the field, he decided to enroll in graduate school — at the same time my mother was pursuing a master’s degree.

Our family was on the path to fulfillment and prosperity. But we were also dead broke.

And so, we hunkered down. We stopped eating out. We didn’t take vacations. And we avoided other large ticket spending items.

It was an intense, stressful experience. And it left an indelible mark on me.

I learned then that nothing is handed to you. What you earn is consummate to the choices you make and the sacrifices you accept.


Many years after this experience, I entered the workforce.

Fresh out of college, I had no idea how personal finance worked. I struggled to keep an accurate budget, build up savings, and anticipate expenses for car repairs.

But despite my struggles maintaining my meager salary, I knew what it took to earn it.

I understood that I would need to show up at my job every day. I recognized that no matter what was going on, I would have to perform to the best of my ability. The reciprocity contract demanded that of me.

As I’ve progressed through my career, I’ve held onto this principle. Day after day, I’ve devoted myself to my vocation. And in return, I’ve received a paycheck.

I believe there’s a great deal of honor in this mentality. America was built upon this philosophy. And in following it, I’m carrying on a storied legacy.

Yet, with each passing day, I feel more and more isolated with this approach.


The trouble started with a news article. One of those that pop into your feed on your smartphone or social media timeline.

The article stated that some newly-minted college graduates were demanding $50,000 a year for entry-level salaries. These young adults considered anything under that number to not be a living wage.

At the time I read this, I’d been out of school for several years. I’d held three jobs in two industries, giving my all to each one. Even with all these accomplishments, I’d never cracked the $50,000 salary mark.

I was outraged.

What gave these graduates the right to make these demands out the gate? And how dare they denigrate my efforts to make ends meet by refusing to even try to do the same?

Had these young adults ever seen real sacrifice? Did they even spend a year of their childhood with no family income? Had they ever considered what it might be like if they were unemployed?

Apparently not.

But it was more than spite fanning the flames. I was horrified at the way these fledgling adults even approached the subject.

Instead of abiding by the reciprocity contract, they made blanket demands of would-be employers. And they committed to virtually nothing in return.

It was a flat rejection of everything I understood society to espouse. It was a formidable rejoinder against the way I was raised. It was a forceful repudiation of the way I lived my life.

It was inconsiderate. It was selfish. It was sickening.

And as the years went by, things only got worse.

All around me, workers demanded more of their employers, while offering nothing in return. Some called for universal job perks. Others sought to do less and get paid more. Still others insisted on only showing up to work when they felt like it.

One young woman even advocated against working at all. Living off government unemployment benefits in the wake of the pandemic, she proudly stated in an interview that she would not return to work.

Now, to be clear, the issues raised here are valid. Wage stagnation has been a longstanding issue in America. Job perks have been uneven. Work distribution has been uneven within industries. And our mental health concerns have long been ignored.

But we shouldn’t just demand that others fix these issues for us. We need to make commitments of our own.

We should reciprocate for the gifts our employers provide us. We should resolve to be more productive, more dedicated, and more loyal. We should seek to innovate and to collaborate. We should choose selflessness over greed.

Such commitments do more than repay the goodwill that comes from our vocations. They prevent others from subsidizing our lives.

If we’re earning our keep, we’re not relying on someone else to foot the bill. We’re providing an even exchange for our livelihood. We’re following the reciprocity contract.

This is how it had long been. And this is how it should be.

Let’s make it happen once again.

Earn It

The sun was barely up and the coffee was piping hot.

Yet, there was palpable excitement throughout the office.

For it was Friday.

And not just any Friday. A short-week Friday.

There had been a holiday earlier in the week. We had barely gotten back to work. And yet, there were already two more days off on the horizon.

As the day wore on, more and more of the office slid into full-fledged Friday mode. Fewer and fewer items on to-do lists got completed. More and more sidebar conversations popped up at various cubicles.

It seemed like everyone’s focus was on the impending weekend.

But mine was not.


As my co-workers ran down the clock, I was racing against it.

There was so much to do. And there wasn’t enough time.

I did my best to tune out the distractions around me. I locked eyes with my computer screen. And I started crossing items off my to-do list.

It was slow going at first. But soon, I picked up momentum.

I was getting to more tasks in a shorter amount of time. The to-do list was getting shorter.

But it wasn’t enough. As the workday wound down, I was still behind the 8-ball. Some items on my list would have to get pushed to next week.

I got in my SUV and headed home, where two days of freedom awaited me.

But I didn’t feel triumphant. I felt like I had failed.


There are several theories about the balance between our lives at work and our lives outside of it.

Parkinson’s Law states that work expands to fit the time available for its completion. Many scientific studies have shown that vacations are good for our health. And there is even a growing consensus that working longer hours hurts our productivity.

These revelations have changed the way work is done. Many companies now offer flexible work schedules, generous vacation policies, and the ability for employees to work from home.

Now, some are pushing the boundary even further. Some experts in recent years have been calling for the 8 hour workday to be cut to 6 hours. And the Prime Minister of Finland has floated the idea of moving to a four day work week.

On the surface, I have no qualms with the idea of vacations or 4 day work weeks. After all, I once set my college class schedule specifically so I could have three day weekends.

But there’s another side to reduced work schedules. A darker side.

For while an abbreviated work schedule gives us more time to enjoy life outside of the office, it also leaves us with less time to get things done within it. And that can cause problems.


There are two ways to approach time off.

One is as a gift. As something bestowed upon us with no strings attached.

The other is as a reward. As something achieved in exchange for our hard work.

These days, many of us take the first approach. We expect time off to be generous and unconditional. And we indulge in opportunities to get away from the grinding demands of the professional world.

We live for the weekends and holidays. We curse Mondays and approach Fridays with a sense of righteous vindication.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with taking this route. It’s natural — even expected — in a world where the traditional workplace norms are getting unshackled, one by one.

But I don’t follow the crowd here. Instead I go for the second approach.

For I believe in the grind. I believe in rolling up my sleeves and getting to it.

Most of all, I believe that to get a break, I need to earn it.

Now, there are upsides and downsides to this approach.

On the plus side, I’m able to keep a steady course. I don’t get crushed by the Monday Blues, and I rarely find myself flying high on Fridays. There is only the next task. The next day. The next opportunity to get after it.

But on the minus side, I get flustered when I get off-schedule. So short weeks and missed deadlines each eat at me.

When the routine suddenly shifts, I find myself without direction. And I feel unworthy of the freedom bestowed upon me. For I haven’t earned it.


Why on earth would I subject myself to this torture?

In a world where instant gratification has never been more plentiful, why would I shun it in favor of monotony?

The answer is equal parts self-control and self-awareness.

As avid Words of the West readers know, I’m a bit obsessed with control.

I crave it. I depend on it.

Yet, I often have doubts on my abilities. And these doubts undercut my sense of control.

This paradox used to paralyze me. I was a ship in irons, caught between the warm trade winds of ambition and the frigid gales of doubt.

It got so bad that by the middle of my high school years, I had checked out. I would sleepwalk through classes, come home and blankly watch whatever sports game was on television.

I was a mess. My grades were slipping. And my misery was rising.

My mother saw all this. And she was not happy.

One day, in a fit of seething exasperation, she called me lazy. Not once, but multiple times.

I could have shrugged this off, the way I shrugged off everything else at that time. But something in those stinging words lit a fire under me.

I didn’t like being called lazy. And I wanted make sure that wouldn’t happen ever again.

So, I made a pact with myself. I conceded that others might have more talent than I did, but I swore that no one would outwork me.

This helped me break the ice of my self-doubt and regain control of my destiny. And it’s continued to provide me direction to this day.

Yes, the Earn It approach is not just habit. It’s my guiding principle.


There’s no need to evangelize the Earn It approach. For it’s not for everyone.

Still, it’s important that we understand the merits of this mindset. It’s important that we recognize the value of hard work and determination.

These principles might not be flashy. But they provide a steadfast certainty in an ever-changing world. And they can yield an unparalleled sense of satisfaction — the satisfaction of a job well done.

So, while we count our blessings and indulge in ever more abundant leisure opportunities, we should remember one thing.

Some of the best things in life are not given. They’re earned.