​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

Teen jobs

I’m not talking those adolescent jobs we did for allowance -- you know, taking out trash, raking leaves, shoveling snow. I’m talking about those jobs that allowed us to break free from our parental employers/oppressors to earn some real money. 

The first was my so-called lawn business. I would walk my parents’ mower four blocks away to mow the property of my customer. Apparently I was such a bargain that this client convinced her sister to hire me too. I didn’t realize that I would have to endure her critique of my sometimes imperfect mow rows, or missed hand-clippings. All of this for a lucrative income of $3 per mowing. I needed to find a better job. 

And so I applied for a work permit at the tender age of 14. With it, I managed to get a summer job at the local laundromat under the management of Olga, a stern woman with a thick German accent. In addition to the occasional sweeping and mopping in the coin-operated section, I got to operate equipment in the full service section, essentially assisting as her personal laundry boy. This meant that at the height of the summer camp season, I was helping to wash and dry tons of dirty, pre-teen socks and underwear, complete with name tags. 

There were massive commercial washing machines and dryers in the back room that were going full blast all day. On hot summer days, this place was the very definition of a sweat shop. One additional appliance back there was the spinner, a huge centrifuge for spin-drying sopping wet clothes before putting them in the dryer. One little thing, that spinner was improperly grounded and gave me body jolting electrical shocks nearly every time I touched it. Where was a federal safety agency when you needed one? But I didn’t dare complain to Olga. 

I’m not sure if my next move was a subconscious cry for help, but I managed to accidently include a bright red clothing item in with a load of tidy whitey underwear, resulting in some pink hybrids. Olga was very unhappy with me, and had to rewash the load with bleach. It was near the end of the summer and by then I didn’t much care what she thought. For once, I was actually looking forward to school.