This is the true story of my first real paycheck.
As a kid from Long Island, my summers were spent at camp. First day camp, then sleep-away camp (CPLV. Best. Camp. Ever), then one summer on a west coast/Canadian Rockies tour. By the time that all ended in 1993, my parents told me that the following summer I would not be allowed to return to camp (this made me sad. Many arguments ensued) and I had to find a job. So that summer, the summer of 1994, at the ripe old age of 17, I got my very first job. As counselor-in-training. At a camp.
It was a logical job. After all, I was an experienced camper and I had plenty of experience babysitting (I had been doing it since I was 12. Yup, back then, people left 12 year olds in charge of their children) so it made sense that I would get a job supervising children in an outdoor setting in the middle of summer. Rather, I would get a job assisting someone supervising children in an outdoor setting in the middle of summer. It was my sneaky way of still being able to go to camp but meeting my parents’ requirement of getting paid.
I was a smart one, too. Not only did I manage to luck out with having 6-year-old girls but I signed up to be a bus counselor as well (even though I was 17 and had my own car, I still chose to be a bus counselor. There was a reason). I know you’re wondering right about now “How on Earth are those two decisions smart?” I’ll explain. It’s a rather simple explanation that can be summed up in two words–more tips. Where I’m from, it’s protocol that parents tip their children’s counselors and CITs. Parents of 6-year-old girls know what a handful they are and people always tip the bus counselor. All of these equaled more money for me. Which I desperately needed because my pay? Was pitiful.
I know that you’re thinking that this sounded like the perfect summer job. It was outside, going swimming, doing arts and crafts, avoiding horses (I am terrified of horses) and I didn’t even have to pay for my own gas to get to work. What sounds better, right? Unfortunately, there was a downfall to this job. Besides the fact that the guy I had a huge crush on all summer did not like me back (this was the first time I realized that perhaps I should not have crushes on Jewish boys, much to my parents’ dismay), my paycheck, which I was set to receive only at the end of the summer was going to be a very paltry $100.
$100. For 8 weeks worth of work. I found this out at the interview and I still took the job on purpose. Reflecting back, I realize that this was insane. But in my completely illogical, 17-year-old head, it made sense. I didn’t want to waitress and the thought of working retail was not at all appealing. I was a camper, dammit! I was going to work in a camp no matter what. I was still going to earn money through tips and babysitting on the weekends. Also, I was very fortunate that I had no expenses beyond my hobbies. What did I need money for? So, I accepted the $100 with a smile on my face, satisfied that I had landed my very first real job. And you know what? The experience was worth every penny of that $100.
If you do the math, that summer I worked for approximately $.31 per hour. I’m sure that’s somehow unlawful. But the camp was able to get around any sort of law and that’s what they paid me. I do remember that I made about $300 in tips. When you think about the fact that I had 4 or 5 campers and there were about 7 kids on the bus, that equals roughly $25 per kid. OK. Maybe that’s pretty terrible, too. But at the end of the summer I had $400 and nothing to spend it on but CDs, books, and going out with friends. Not too shabby. Fine. It is shabby, but I was proud of it. Because I had not only applied for the job, but I interviewed and was offered the job all on my own.
Now, over 17 years later, I’m still proud of that job. I learned so much (in addition to figuring out that Jewish boys don’t like me) about myself, my capabilities and my work ethic. I learned how much sunscreen it takes not to get a sunburn. I learned that, no matter how hard I try, I will always be afraid of horses. I learned that people can go way overboard with their love of Stevie Nicks. I learned how to apply for a job, how to interview for a job, and how to accept a job. Most of all, I learned the satisfaction of getting a paycheck.
And that? Was worth all $100.