First Job Recollections
Do you remember your first paying job? Babysitting, walking your neighbor’s dog, or delivering newspapers aside, what was your first taste of monetary independence from your parents? I mean a job where the employer removed taxes from your check.
My first job after college—the summer before getting married and starting my serious, real job as a French teacher—was as a factory employee. As I was having some cosmetic work done on my face, a job interfacing with the public was out of the question. On the other hand, a simple job working for a company which made high tech screws fit the bill perfectly. Some of the screws the factory manufactured were even used for NASA’s space shuttle. That was about as sexy as it got.
A summer job screwing around
My mindless job was to put screws in a vise which would then insert a plastic pellet into a tiny hole. Frankly, I don’t recall the final use of the thousands of screws I cranked out that summer, but I do distinctively remember the foreman. Lenny was overweight with a pock-marked face and acrid cigarette breath. He made daily rounds to check out the machines used by our all-female team. Simultaneously, Lenny would take the opportunity to feel around the women’s leg. This was before the #MeToo movement, so women pretty much had to put up with it to keep their jobs. To protect myself, I resorted to humor telling Lenny that my fiancé was a German Irish weightlifter with a mean temper. It worked for the two months I was there.
That first job was not what I had envisioned as a recent college graduate, but it taught me to respect others who didn’t have the privileges that my good education afforded me. I was an anomaly at the plant but after my co-workers realized I was not “stuck up,” (as we used to call it) the ladies welcomed me into their blue-colored world with open hearts. We all despised Lenny. Doing repetitive, mind-numbing work, even with the fun crew, made me anxious to get started with my real profession as an educator.
A quick promotion
Many people have unexpected first jobs. Top marketing executive, Joan Brower, laughingly told me how she landed a summer job at an upscale “Continental” restaurant on Long Island. As the designated “whipped cream girl” she wore a starched white apron with a ruffled fringe. Joan’s job at dessert service was to roam the room with an engaging smile offering guests a healthy dollop of freshly whipped cream from a large crystal bowl. After several weeks on the job, the owner pulled her aside. Joan waited anxiously to be reprimanded. Instead, he told her he was so pleased with her positive attitude, reliability, and great people skills that he was promoting her to bread server. She and her parents had a good laugh at breakfast the next morning when she reported her promotion from whipped cream to garlic bread girl.
Working for a crazy woman
My Italian teacher, Anna Squatriti, recounted that her first paying job after college was as personal assistant to a famous Italian journalist working in Manhattan. (Out of respect for the now deceased individual, she would not divulge her first boss’s name.) It didn’t take Anna long before she discovered her new patrone was pazza. One moment la Signora was considerate, sweet-tempered and gentile. The next she would inexplicably fly into a wild rage. Anna explained (in Italian, of course) that “her employer knew how to swear in both English and Italian using expressions that would make even a dockworker from either country blush. Anna lasted three months. She later found out that her boss had had twenty-three assistants in three years and that Anna’s tenure was amongst the longest. Now Anna realizes that La Signora was probably bi-polar. When her boss was “up” she was completely fearless. She sought out—and was granted—interviews with famously inaccessible figures of the time, such as Ayatollah Khomeini, Gaddafi and Arafat.
A job pre-requisite: Being a Republican
Joan Ross, my Italian classmate, told me her first job after graduating from Smith College was in the mid-60s working for Robert Lindsay’s New York City mayor’s campaign. “It was a perfect job for someone new to New York who knew no one and nothing of the city,” Joan offered. “I don't remember how much I was paid but I was camping out on a cot in my friend's apartment, so my living expenses were minimal. Ah, youth.”
“Our team of eager, young campaign workers passed out flyers, bumper stickers and plastic shopping bags,” Joan continued. “I went to the San Gennaro Festival and one of the final games of the 1969 World Series which the amazin' NY Mets won. I also went to some campaign stops but mostly worked for the mayor's running mate for comptroller, Fred Perrotta. For the record, Lindsay won. Perrotta lost.” Joan also added that the only hitch for the job was having to register as a Republican. “I remained as such but rarely voted Republican. It was only a few years ago that I reregistered as a Democrat.”
Music to my ears: the sound of a cash register
When I asked my trainer, Jenn Spina, what her first job was, her face lite up. I couldn’t imagine what type work would evoke such an ebullient reaction. Much to my surprise, she answered, “I worked as a checkout person at our local Stop ‘n Shop grocery store. I loved hearing the beep when I scanned the items. And, you wouldn’t believe how much is involved behind the scene. Your manager checks how long it takes you to complete a job, how courteous you are to customers and naturally, whether or not your cash register drawer count is accurate.”
My late husband, Ed Lauber, used to nostalgically recall his first job helping the Dugan’s Bakery delivery man make his rounds. Dugan’s was a New Jersey bakery back in the 50’s with a reputation for making the best cakes, pies and cupcakes in the state. Ed had a sweet tooth. He also didn’t mind waking up early. What better job could a young teenager possibly have than to get on a small, squashed-nose truck at the crack of dawn and zip around the town making deliveries while sneaking pieces of freshly baked goods when his boss—the driver—was not looking.
A little girl in a rabbit head
Mia Malm, a highly regarded publicist in Napa Valley, reminisced about her first job, a one-day affair, at age fifteen or sixteen. “I was hired to be inside a Peter Rabbit costume for a big book convention in San Francisco. I was in the Beatrix Potter section waving at passersby. People were weird, men mostly, who tried to figure out if it was a boy or a girl inside the suit (who cares??) and made comments that my skinny calves looked like a girl. Many men also asked me where the “little rabbit’s room was” – so funny that they felt less embarrassed asking a rabbit head where they couldn’t see the person but clearly it was a young girl inside. I would just point in the right direction. I think I was paid $25 for the day. A picture of me as Peter ended up in People Magazine because I gave a courtly bow and kissed the back of the hand of author Maxine Hong, who was there with her publicity crew promoting her book,” The Woman Warrior.”
Singing for your supper
Beatrix Petito from my Equinox spinning class was certain that she had the most surprising first job of all. At age eleven she sang in the children’s choir at the Bavarian State Opera in Munich. In fact, she do so until the age of fifteen. Beatrix comes from a musical family as both of her older brothers and father sang at the opera house. While she couldn’t recall how much money she made, her recollections of having fun with her brothers, whom she adored, were vivid. “When our performance schedules overlapped, Dad used to allow us to take the trolley home,” Beatrix continued. “While I had a great deal of homework to do, as I attended gymnasium (German high school which tracks students for college), it never interfered with my opera rehearsals or performances. I remember meeting Pavarotti when he performed Rodolfo in La Bohème. Could that man ever sweat!”
Dan Bogart, my physical therapist, told me about his first job as he applied ice to my injured knee one morning. “I picked up litter on the beach at Long Beach, NY as a young teenager. We worked early in the morning in five hour stretches, each with our own assigned section of sand. The pay wasn’t much but my parents thought it would be a good way to learned responsibility, especially showing up on time each morning and being reliable.” I wondered out loud if people were worse then or now with their trash. “For sure, they were worse years ago,” Dan replied. “There are many more rules now which are strictly enforced such as not drinking on the beach and not allowing dogs, even if some people bend the rules.” Dan mentioned with a broad, manly smile that he later worked as a lifeguard. Undoubtedly, this was a more desirable summer job for young Dan along with better opportunities for meeting cute, young girls!
What I loved best about my first job
My British friend, Natasha Kavanagh, told me her first paying job was as a junior buyer for Boots, a UK-based health and beauty pharmacy chain. After proving herself in the men’s division, she was promoted to women’s products. Here she decided which items to carry, discount, or feature with special sales. Natasha worked with spreadsheets and sharpened her marketing skills. “The job taught me the discipline needed to see a project through to its completion. At Boots, I learned the importance of working with others in a corporate environment as well. The best part of my job, however, was “offloading” samples to my friends.”
The velvet voiced Lexa from my knitting class—who does professional voice-overs—told me her first job was as a singer. “I was underage but took the job anyway at sixteen singing in a band which performed in a seedy bar. Our group of five performed behind chicken wire to protect us from flying beer bottles. At least once a night a fight would break out. Even with the protection, I also learned how to duck!” The gig brought in $200 a night divided five ways, she explained. Despite its danger, Lexa sang with the group all the way through college.
Don’t touch my tool box!
Petra Marcella, our knitting instructor at String Yarn, said her first job was helping her father as a pre-teen build homes in Saint Lucia. “I was the eldest child AND the first son he never had,” she said deferentially as she explained how she’d jump on the roof and hand him various tools. “While I never saw a dollar, my father funded the extra stuff I wanted for my sports and other hobbies.” She learned all sorts of skills under her father’s tutelage: using power tools, mixing mortar, and laying bricks, for example. Today, Petra is a gorgeous, statuesque woman in her late thirties. No doubt, she cut a strong, self-assured figure growing up, too. She told us her baby brother used to introduce her to his friends as “This is my sister and my father figure.”
Petra’s father, who was very proud of her, lamented how hard it was going to be for her to find a husband. “You already know everything a man should know,” he told her. As luck with have it, Petra ended up marrying a contactor! “It drives me crazy as my husband frequently goes into my pink toolbox and borrows things and doesn’t tell me! Then, when I need them to help out my neighbors, I have to go hunting all around the house.”
While each of these first-time experiences were different, they all involved learning critical life skills. The three most important were: make yourself invaluable to your boss; have a positive attitude which helps conquer just about any difficult task; and finally, don’t be discouraged. After all, without problems and challenges, you wouldn’t have a job.
Whipped cream, anyone?