My Money Story – Part III – Working While Growing Up

I always find it interesting to hear what people’s first jobs were.  They are usually rarely glamorous but quite entertaining, commonly landing on the “I hope I never have to do that shit again list.”  Fast food and physical labor tend to be common offenders, because how often do you really hear: CEO of my startup was the first time I bloodied my knuckles in the foreign world of earning money. 

Nope.  Not here.  For most of us it takes time, learning and dedication before we start down that more promising career path. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let’s start at the beginning… 

I don’t have kids, yet, but there seems to be the never-ending debate about how to ruin your children with money.  And top of the list is, do you give them an allowance or pay them for chores?  Personally, I haven’t given this much thought because I haven’t had to cross this road yet, but what I can speak to was my own experience growing up. 

I’m the middle child in my family (yes, which explains a lot).  My sister is only a year and half older while my little brother is 8 years my junior.  So, for most of my childhood, it was only my sister and I growing up together. 

We never had an allowance or were paid to do chores per say.  Probably in early elementary school we were taught responsibility for ourselves and what was expected.  We had to make our own lunches for school, do our own laundry, clean the house on weekends and partake in yard work.  All those fun things for a full family household. 

If we needed money for something, like lunch downtown on a half school day or a movie with friends my parents provided for us within reason.  But we never had the here’s $20 a week for doing what you are supposed to do and go put it in a piggy bank.  There was no 529 plan or separate investment account buying stocks in our name.  In my opinion, we were your typical middle-class family living within our means and my parent’s largest priority was trying to afford to send us to private schools (LA isn’t known for the best public-school systems.  Though if they went this route, they could probably have moved up their retirement date at least five or more years.  But, that wasn’t my decision back then.) 

It was a stretch, but they made it work. 

Now, the first time I ever made money was probably working for my grandma.  She was an avid gardener but had debilitating arthritis.  So, on weekends my dad would drop me off at her house and I’d do weeding, planting and gardening for her.  Did she have to pay me, no, of course not.  But she did and took pleasure in it.  And this was my first experience of getting a little extra cash in hand to open a bank account. 

My first attempt at a real job was in 7^th grade, and this is embarrassing to relay, but it was true.  When we would get half days in elementary school, most of us kids would walk downtown and grab lunch together.  Getting a personal pizza at Dominos was one of our common themes, so the owner new us. 

When we swung in for lunch that day, he offered us a job on weekends for hanging flyers on doors around town.  Seemed easy enough so we said of course and started the following weekend.  One of our parents dropped the four of us off on a street corner and we went to work on our skateboards armed with hundreds of doorhangers tucked under our arms like golden tickets to paradise. 

We were going to earn some money.  We were men now.  We had arrived. 

Nope, we were wimps and still had a lot of growing up to do. 

We lasted only about half a day in the blistering LA smoggy heat before giving up and dumping the rest in the trash.  We told him we had hung them all on doors, and he being a smart guy had a delivery person drive up and down the streets to check.  When he found out we had lied and only did half the streets, that was the end to that.  But he was a standup guy and still paid us for a full day of work and threw in a free pizza.  It was an ugly situation in which I made a bad decision and felt terrible about – mostly to my parents because that wasn’t how they raised us. 

Yet it was still my first day of full pay from someone who wasn’t my family.  Not a proud moment, but it was a learning experience in the beginning of my long working career to come. 

My next job wouldn’t be until high school and was a library page.  If you don’t know what a library page is, (because I’m not sure if millennials have ever set foot in a library), you basically are the person who organizes the books when they are returned and then re-shelves them.  It is a very quiet and boring job.  But you’re inside in the air conditioning during summer so there are definitely worse things that you could be doing. 

You’re also probably wondering, how the fuck did I get this job?  Library page?  That’s random as hell? 

And it is.  And like most things in life, I snagged it by connections.  My sister was already working there, so when an opening came up, she recommended me for the job.  Conflict of interest?  Maybe.  But back then shit really didn’t matter.  So low and behold, I got the job. 

It’s also worth mentioning that I held this job during my drug addled phase in high school and had devised a system for selling drugs that I’ll get into in another post down the road by having people check out library books. (Haha.  Yes it was wrong, but pretty fucking genius at the same time I have to admit.  And although it is not legal, recommended or a proud memory, dealing drugs and managing illicit markets was one of the most important learning experiences for myself growing up and an important part of my money story.  But we’ll get to that another day.) 

The problem with the library job was that it was only a few hours a day and not that much money – basically minimum wage.  If you’re young, one of the biggest advantages you have is your youth, vigor and energy.  You can work long and hard because you have this growing body that is only getting stronger. 

Luckily for me, connections proved to come in handy again.  One of my classmate’s dad in elementary school owned a party rental company and was looking for dependable workers.  My friend put in a good word for me, and just like that, I was able to land a new job. 

So, I shifted from the library in my sophomore year high school to doing physical labor at this party rental company. 

Now I had the opportunity to work as much as I wanted to, and overtime proved to be the best deal I could find.  My weekends and summers were filled with exhausting 12-hour days (this was some hard fucking work and brutal conditions in the summer heat).  And I’ll point out that 12-hour days of physical labor are very different than 12-hour days of white-collar mental strain work.  You have to take great care of your body or it’ll break down, especially in the summer months. 

This job was also one of the first times I had to prove myself to older and harder men – no education was required only brute strength and brawn.  My coworkers were either illegal aliens or fresh out of prison, and I’m not joking or embellishing.  At first glance I didn’t fit in at all, looking like a small, spoiled, privileged white kid.  How was I going to keep up with these guys they thought?  But looks can be deceiving.  I had been an athlete all of my life and was on my way to playing D1 hockey in college, so I knew how to push my body to the limit.  I brought a blue-collar workman like attitude to the job and after a few weeks of busting my balls I had won them over and had earned a spot with one of the top crews. 

Unfortunately, my success there would be short lived due to a trip to rehab in my junior year of high school.  Then being put on probation I wasn’t allowed to participate in any sports or job outside of school.  I was officially on lock down for my entire Senior year. 

Not fun at all and a path I highly recommend any sane person avoid at all cost. 

But that’s a story for another day…  

-Q-FI 

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P.S. So, let’s hear it.  What was your first job ever or which one did you despise the most?