Ah, first jobs. Who can forget them, for better or worse?  I mean something more than the occasional babysitting or lawn mowing job, the kind of situation where you show up at a certain time, carry out duties, and keep track of your hours. Where you have a boss and expectations.  My two sons have embarked upon summer jobs, wearing clothes other than basketball shorts and tees, and going to a workplace – in this case, offices.  The older has a paid internship at Biogen Idec in Cambridge, where he has a cubicle, an ID, and does the daily commute on the subway. The other is putting in hours at his father’s accounting and law office as a general errand boy and inputting info on the computer.  Clean, air conditioned, subsidized lunch — not too bad in comparison to some of my early jobs. My mother was a widow with little money and high expectations: between us six kids, we had just about every low level, s**t job there was through college and beyond.  But, interestingly, my very first job - working in the pro shop of a golf course – proved to be a pretty good start to the working life. There I learned some important lessons about the work world in a nice place with an agreeable boss, and sometimes had a lot of fun.

I got my first job in the spring I was 15, just before turning 16.  The golf course was near our house, walking distance, and there was a pro shop, and an adjoining bar and restaurant. Fortunately for me, they needed someone in the pro shop after school for the company leagues who played from 3 to 6 or 7 pm.  My duties were selling tickets, golf supplies, coffee and snacks. Through the summer, I also worked weekends starting at 5:30 am until about noon – there were tournaments with many golfers and strict start times. It was not a bad job compared to my brothers and sisters who worked at the butchers or picked tobacco or served ice cream at a stand. They were jealous that I got to drive the electric carts!

Another lucky thing for me was that my boss, the groundskeeper, was easy-going and relaxed, setting a comfortable tone for the place. Although I was punctual, it wasn’t a big deal if I was late, because the golfers could pay when they were finished. The golfers, who were primarily men, often treated me as a daughter; the women played mid-morning, not my usual shift. A few of the retired guys were regulars and I got to know something about them and their lives; they always had time to talk.  And for the most part, all the golfers were in a good mood when they set off to play; sometimes they were not so happy after a bad round, but then they went to the bar for a drink. I stayed out of that area, mostly because I was underage.

 Many of the things I learned on that first job have stayed with me for life: dealing with customers, answering the phone, making change and dealing with money, keeping the shelves well stocked, basic cleaning and tidying, security and locking up. Some of the other lessons got me ready for life in the bigger world.  Soon I realized that there was a fair amount of betting going on in the golf games; sometimes big amounts.  Some of the golfers had already been drinking before going out on the course, and they could be careless and irresponsible, loud and rude, sometimes whacking a perfectly innocent tree with golf club in anger. They might leave a golf cart in a sand trap or refuse to come in out of a thunderstorm. There was sexual harassment, although I didn’t recognize it as such, or think I had any recourse.  One instance was a man who came up behind me and groped my breasts, when we were alone in the shop. Another was the time the owner of the golf course stopped by and invited me for a ride in a golf cart. He parked in a secluded place and pushed his tongue inside my mouth, while I sat there stunned. In terms of my pay, I got $2.50 an hour, cash, once a week.  My sister who worked at a grocery store pointed out to me that this was “under the table”, not legal. Yet,  I didn’t feel I was in a position to negotiate, and I needed the job.

In the end, I look back to that time and experience with some affection. In all, it was a fun job, where people came to have a good time.  My boss treated me with kindness and consideration, and seemed genuinely grateful for my help. I think my own good attitude and conscientious ways made my employers value and trust me. In my tumultuous teen years, the job gave me a purpose, a regular schedule and some money of my own.  Talking with a wide variety of adults helped me see there was a bigger world outside my own high school world, and other problems than mine.  It made me realize that there are good work situations in the world, they do exist – and as Mary Poppins once said, “in every job that must be done there is an element of fun.”