T?his might be a bit biased coming from me ?— I love my minimum wage job. When I’m not fighting crime, watching and reading “Game of Thrones” or editing at The State News, I work as a sandwich artist at a Jimmy John’s back home. I spend four days a week slapping mayonnaise and tomatoes onto freshly-baked bread, and slamming out sammies.

I slave over a cold table for hours on end during the daily lunch rush. After the onslaught of hungry, white collar workers wearing light blue dress shirts (I actually once counted the number of light blue dress shirts during a lunch rush — 47) has been satisfied, I clean. And clean, and clean. I clean the bathrooms, the freezer, the floor, the dishes, the phones, the ceiling, the tables, and the office until everything is shining and meets corporate standards.

Am I going anywhere in life working at Jimmy John’s? Probably not. Despite all this, am I glad I have had the opportunity to experience this job? Absolutely.

I love Jimmy John’s. It has exposed me to some very interesting coworkers — one guy named Hector had his four kid’s names tattooed in flames on his neck, and claimed to be part of a gang in Detroit.

I have Jimmy John’s stickers, pins, hats and shirts, and I’m working on getting one of the signs for my dorm room. I boycott Subway (but not Potbelly’s, because damn, those brownie cookies are good), and I’ve had every sandwich on the JJ’s menu — I once went a week straight eating only Jimmy John’s sandwiches for lunch. And I think I’m going to go get an Italian Night Club, with hot peppers and no tomatoes after I finish writing this.

But as much as I love it, and as much as I’ve learned from working there, I know I am capable of more.

I put a lot of effort into doing my job well. Sometimes I have to think critically (do I make the 30-piece platter, or the 10 box lunches due at 11 a.m. first?), and I sweat a lot more than I’d like to admit, although that might just be because our air conditioner is broken.

It’s not a glamorous job, and it certainly doesn’t pay glamorously, but having a low-skill, low-pay job is something everyone should experience at some point. Because having a job in retail, food services or another similar occupation made me appreciate the value of hard work, AND appreciate the fact that I’m probably not going to be stuck there for the rest of my life.

The work is, well, work. Simple labor. And I get paid a pitiful wage for it, but that’s how our economy works. Simple jobs get simple pay.

I’m not going to get into the merits of the minimum wage standard — that’s another argument for another time. Jimmy John’s has the right to pay me minimally, because it’s a minimum-skill level job. Anyone with two thumbs, half a brain and a loaf of bread can make sandwiches. But it does take a little bit more than that to be the three Jimmy John’s “F”s: Fast, Fresh and Flawless.

Regardless of what the minimum wage happens to be, everyone should work a minimum wage job, even if only for a little while.

A crappy job teaches you the value of a decent one. There’s something strangely humbling about putting your time and energy into a job and being compensated hardly anything for it. I’m in an interesting position right now. I get to experience two very different placements on the socioeconomic spectrum — I am on both sides of the counter during the lunch rush, as low-wage sandwich-maker and also, as a white collar sandwich-consumer while on lunch break at the State News.

At Jimmy John’s I go in, do my job and leave, sandwich in hand and not a worry on my mind. At The State News, I might technically only work two days a week, but I think about it and plan for it every single day. It’s a job that requires cognitive thought and nice clothes (read: not a Jimmy John’s uniform). I’m thankful to have both jobs because they both give me great experiences and have a hand in making me more mature and responsible. The State News looks much better on a resume, but there’s still something gratifying about working hard with low pay at a sandwich shop.

Emily Jenks is the Opinion Editor at the State News. Reach her at ejenks@statenews.com.