by Kimberly Wolf

Created on: March 10, 2009

I envied my brother who was seven years my senior and his financial freedom as he waltzed through our kitchen waving his first paycheck high in the air from the local grocery store. As I sat at our kitchen table half listening to the list of ways he was going to spend his hard earned wages, I silently wished to myself that I could skip the next several years of my life so I too could be old enough to get a job and buy things with my own money.

For that matter I wished I could skip to the age where I could drive and go out by myself but for now, I would settle for earning one of those rectangular squares of paper whose numbers represented the ability to buy toys and clothes to impress my friends with.

Despite my deepest wishes and fervent nightly requests to the higher powers, I did not get to skip the next several years to my great disappointment but the years passed as they always do and the time and opportunity finally came for me to get my first job.

It was the beginning of summer vacation and I had just turned 15 several months before. The majority of my summer was always spent at my mom's house because my dad had primary custody of me and I stayed with him most of the time during the school year.

My mom worked at a small family run Italian restaurant that was in need of a busser to clean the tables and help the waitresses. My mom came to me with the preposition of filling the job and I didn't need to be asked twice before jumping at the chance to finally earn money of my own. I didn't need to interview, just to start when they needed me.

You couldn't imagine my exitement as I put on the sharp pair of black slacks and stiffly pressed white dress shirt that was the standard uniform of the staff at the restaurant. My head swelled with pride at the thought of taking my initial step into the adult world by starting my first day of real work.

The work kept me busy and left me feeling tired but satified at the end of my shift. I was putting on my coat to leave with my mother when she handed me a five dollar bill.

"Um, thanks mom" I said hesitantly, pocketing the bill and thinking she was giving me a sort of congratulatory bonus for doing a good job.

Before I could ask her if that was the case, the other waitresses approached me, handing me bills the same as mom had done. That night I learned the glories of the tipping system. Tips AND a paycheck! In my 15 year old mind, I struck gold.

After two weeks of anticipation, I received that coveted retangle of paper known as my paycheck. I came home waving my first paycheck in the air not unlike I witnessed my older brother do years ago. I could practically hear my 8 year old brother silently wishing for the speedy arrival of the day that he could make money too. I secretly wished that the higher powers he would be undoubtedly praying to that night were nicer to him than they were to me back then.

I opened up a bank account with the help of my mother and headed for the mall the next day.It was there that I learned that my spending ambitions and the reality of what I can actually afford were worlds apart. I peered down at the small shopping bag that contained the sum of my paycheck in the form of a couple of shirts, a handbag, and a pack of incense. It was in that mall that same day where I learned the value of a dollar and the wisdom of saving those dollars.

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