We’ve been writing a lot about family lately, which is certainly a subject worthy of exploration, but lest we find ourselves stuck in a rut, I’m going to prompt you this month into a new direction.

I remember my first job.  While still in high school, I talked my way into a weekend slot at a car wash, back when minimum wage was close to one dollar.  This was one of those car washes where the driver exited the car before it was pulled through a tunnel by a chain, and then the driver, and whatever happy kids came along, could watch through a long glass window as the car travelled down the line.  The car was washed, wiped, buffed, sprayed, scrubbed, bristled, and blow-dried, mainly by machine, but a few rough-edged older men stayed inside the tunnel and did some of the more difficult hand-work themselves.

When the cars came out of the tunnel, two guys with cotton towels finished drying the chassis, while another fellow jumped inside and cleaned the dashboard and inside window.  Then this final fellow held open the door and said to the driver, “Thank you for coming to Jim Taylor’s Car Wash.  Have a great day.”

Probably because I was the only worker with a respectable haircut and clean trousers, the owner put me in charge of the final step.

Much to my surprise and delight, however, every third customer or so would thrust some money into my hand as he entered the car.  Usually it was a shiny quarter.  Sometimes two.  At the end of the shift, I may have made an extra eight to ten bucks, and that seemed grand.  I must really open a door well, I thought to myself, riding my Schwinn back home.

A few weeks went by until the other workers caught on.  These were tips, and in all fairness, I should have been sharing them with everyone, especially the rough guys who did the hard work in back.  The owner fired me on the spot, once the guys complained, which was probably the only reason I didn’t get the living daylights beaten out of me.

It all seems so stupid now, especially my never questioning why I was going home with my pockets sagging with quarters. Youth can be a powerful hallucinogen.

So, what was your very first job?

Here are a few prompts to get you started:

• What was your very first job, outside of your own home?  What frightened you most about this new environment, or what amused you?
  
  
• What was your earliest lesson about work and fairness?
  
  
• Did you ever get fired?