My parents had basic household chores for me and I received a weekly allowance. This started in the late 50’s and was a nickel a week as I recall.
A few years later when I was old enough to run a lawn mower, I got into the big bucks, around a dollar fifty to mow our lawn. We had neighbors that paid more so that really put me in the chips.
As I approached sixteen, I worked at a small county grocery store stocking shelves and anything else that was needed for minimum wage. That was around $1.45 and then went up to $1.65. The most boring job I ever had.
The next year I got a job with a local guy who had a mowing business and also did backhoe and other basic equipment. That was a big upgrade to around $5 an hour.

Started working in the summer when I was ten years old and have worked full time since. I threw papers before school from a hot ass van and sold subscriptions for it after school door to door. Got paid under the table for both and did both until I was tall enough to pass for 15, at 14, and used my social to get a job as a dishwasher at Steak and Ale. By the time they figured it out I had my birthday. Always had a job unless as an adult got laid off for H1B’s. That happened more than a few times. And having to raise myself, I learned honesty, hard work, from movies, TV, anywhere I saw a grown adult man doing it right. I never had that at home.

I watched the newer John Elway documentary a month ago and he even talked about it in the first 5 minutes of it. “I always believed in the hard road because that is the only way you can have success. You take the hard way you reap the benefits.”

Younger people I hear talk today, always looking for a cheat code, an easier way to success. I view it as bending metal, and you do that via fire. This world today is marshmallow soft. Few want to put in the hard work it takes to be successful. And few people at my work have the sand. Lots of fake it until you make it folk playing politics.

I grew up on a tobacco farm, working the fields along with everything that entailed from a very young age.

Driving tractors from the early 50s, in the 90s. Everything still done by hand except planting the baby tobacco plants. We even still used stick barns regularly.

I remember my dad picking me up early from school one day my 8th grade year. I was excited, he had never picked me up early in my life.

He needed an extra worker to pick tobacco that day…

Everything from there was easy.

I have always tried to do every job, no matter how "menial", to the best of my ability. Nobody ever called me lazy. I also exceedingly rarely missed any work, even to the point of going in sick. (My former business seldom allowed for sick days.) Only injuries kept me from it. I'll admit to always having a problem with punctuality, even today.

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Originally posted by 220-9er:
My parents had basic household chores for me and I received a weekly allowance. This started in the late 50’s and was a nickel a week as I recall.

My brothers and I did all the chores except cooking. When I was nine in 1969 my first allowance was ten cents per week, when I was ten I got twenty cents, eleven was thirty cents, etc. At 14 I had a paper route and mowed grass. I laughed at my mom for trying to give me forty cents! I was never unemployed, well, till I retired.

I think it is up to the person. As a kid, I had chores but only received my allowance if I did things right. I started working at 11 with a paper route, then at 14 I started cleaning the bathrooms at a local flea market and worked my way up to working the snow cones and then in the kitchen. At 16 I started as a bagger at a grocery store and within a year became the front end manager with keys and the alarm code to the store.

Today I refuse to lower my work ethic. I do law enforcement internal affairs investigations at the state level on county law enforcement agencies and within our own agency. I don’t care if I feel the allegation is true or false; I put the same amount of hard work into either one. It will be the evidence that proves someone did something, or they didn’t. I get irritated as we are given a timeline, not by any law, to complete investigations. I am always having to ask for extensions on cases because I do hard work and write good, long, and thorough reports yet I get hit on my evaluation just for always needing an extension on my cases. I am going to do what I feel is right for everyone involved. I would imagine the family of a person who died in a jail will be grateful I took the time to do the best job I could to get to the truth despite me taking a hit on my evaluation because I took a few extra weeks to close the case.

It bothers me because I am considered a subject matter expert in my agency, I train our investigators in how to do good investigations, how to properly interview or interrogate, and I train other police agencies for the same but yet they get on me for even going 10-20 days over our deadline. I won’t compromise my work just to be timely.

Sorry, but this kind of struck a nerve with me….LOL

Grew up in rural IL so I was a field hand pretty early on. Cutting thistle out of pastures, walking beans, detassling corn, hauling grain to the bins.
My Social Security report shows I started at 14 with a detassling job. My town job was delivering papers, which I loathed.

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Originally posted by mrvmax:
Surprisingly I never learned from anyone, it came natural to me in my first job that wasn’t mowing yards.

I think I’m similar to you in that there’s a certain satisfaction inherent in doing a good job. Or, as we used to say in the Navy, doing a good job is like taking a piss in your wool pants while in formation. No one knows about it but it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling.

My dad was a hard worker but one of the first things he taught me was how to take a break without looking you’re taking a break. You don’t sit, you stand up while looking at your work and rubbing your chin with your fingers pretending to be thinking about your next steps.

I learned about my work ethic counter intuitively. As punishment for goofing off, I forget what, my navy chief punished me by making me clean a shaft alley space. I cleaned that space so well even down to the bilge. When he came down to personally inspect my work, he was visibly surprised to see how spic and span, every inch was. He also said something to the effect that if I could just focus on keeping straight, I would go far. The same chief, after making me do a training presentation as punishment yet again, remarked similarly that I could be the division’s training petty officer.

I had a paper route, shoveled some snow, all the usual stuff, but never took it to heart until I turned 16. At 16 I said to my Dad, I want to get a car. He replied go ahead. Wow, that was easy! I then said I don't have nearly enough money. Dad then said, going to be hard to get a car then isn't it. I knew my Dad well enough to know this conversation was over. So, my work ethic came from my Dad.
Rod

My father was self employed so well before I was old enough to be productive he regularly took me to work with him. He usually paid me a dollar an hour as I came to be more useful. Some weekends and lots of summer days spent helping. As a teen he paid me a few dollars an hour and sometimes more with harder tasks. A learning experience that harder work pays more. I started buying my own clothes and saving for a Honda ATV which morphed into buying my first jeep with his help.
Eventually I took a coop job as a draftsman while in vocational school and stayed there for nine years. I got sick of that work and joined the elevator trade with my brother. In general I like my work and I like to be busy, so I try to encourage the newbies to take it seriously by showing up and paying attention. Most of the guys who make it through the screening to join the IUEC already have a decent work ethic.

Worked for a landscaping company during my high school summers. $5 hour under the table to mow lawns - pretty good scratch back in the 80's.

During the school year I mucked cages and stacked food/supplies at an Animal Hospital.

In addition to assigned chores at home, we also had to give my Dad 4-hours every weekend for whatever tasks he assigned. (moving rocks, stacking wood, digging holes, etc.)

My father, mother and mentor were amazing role models of work ethic.

It is what is expected of you to be a contributor to society.

My mentor was the farmer I worked for and who in later life became my step father.

At my busiest time in life, I worked one full time job, two part time jobs, ran a rental property and went to night school.

Finishing night school permitted me to advance in my full time job and drop the part time work.

It was exhausting yet exhilarating at the same same time.

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Originally posted by smschulz:
Anyone remember paper routes?

Yes.

I had three of them. Seattle Post Intelligencer, the AM paper back in the day. 7th Grade, 13 yo. Started with one, then the route next to mine opened up and I took it as well. A while after than, the route on the other side of my original one opened and I got it too. The third route was mostly apartments in 5 different complexes.

If I remember correctly, between the three of them I was north of 250 papers a day. The distributor dropped the bundles at my house and a couple other spots in the area as I couldn’t carry all at once. Sundays ballooned to over 300 since the PI offered Sunday only subscriptions as well as daily.

My Dad drove me on Sundays, 1974 Chevette back seat down, hatch back open stuffed to the headboard. I hated Sundays. Did the routes til I was 15 and got my first cooking job at a little mom and pop burger place.

My junior and senior years in high school I was working as the youngest cook ever in a a Steak/Seafood chain (Sea Galley), pulling 20-30 hours a week working nights and weekends. This was before they passed all the laws limiting hours on students.

Quit cooking about a month before going to USMC Boot Camp. Got out of other Marines in June 1990 and had a job before the end of July. After a couple of “need to pay the bills” job, I got on with the Sheriff’s Dept 911 center in 1992 and gave it 30 years. Retired at 61 years old after working almost continuously for 48 years. I think the longest stint I didn’t have a job in all those years was about 3 months.


Kids today (and many adults) don’t know what honest work is.

When school counselors push college, college, college, what do you expect?

I grew up poor. Mostly single mom. If I wanted money of my own to spend, had to go earn it. Started shining shoes, mostly hit the local car lots where all the salesmen were happy to pay a local kid to shine their shoes. Got a paper route as soon as I was able. Started in retail at 15, never looked back. Hardware, jewelry, liquor store. First job out of college was commission appliance sales.

I'd owe my work ethic to my mother, who never took a sick day, no matter what. She worked multiple jobs and side hustles. Always just a step over getting by. She quit working when she was 86.

Last week I had 6 days at my store, ran some fire calls with my department, county commission and worked Sunday day shift and Saturday overnight at my EMS job.

I keep telling my wife I'm cutting back to 40 hours a week when I hit 70.

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Originally posted by smschulz:
Anyone remember paper routes?

I had a paper route for two years, from the time I was 14 'til 16. The worst part was collecting. Door to door with about 110 to 115 customers, monthly.

My dad worked in the oilfield 7 days on/7 off. He would shrimp on his off days. I usually went with him when not in school. Long, hot days, sun up to sun down. We would troll for 55 minutes then pull the net up, empty the pocket in the culling board and cull that catch. Culling was the best part.

Sure was glad to get that paper route...

CW

quote:

How about pinsetters?

You bet! Made good money doing that on the base where my father was stationed,

My wife grew up on a working farm in west Tennessee. I've told more than one person talking about reparations to shut up - my little blond haired blue eyed wife picked more cotton than you've ever seen.

I had a hernia by age 10 from lifting to much weight. at least that's my theory. I remember getting my ass kicked when my Dad didn't think I was working hard enough

People ask why I work hard and I tell them its just ingrained in me!

Started caddying about 10 years old way back. I learned very quickly to keep my "damn mouth shut".

quote:

Originally posted by smschulz:
Anyone remember paper routes?

Had one when I was nine for a year, in Florida. Remember those grumpy old ladies who would hold out on payment for papers I was already billed for. Also remember my 17YO sister going full collection-agent on them!

Been working ever since other than one year in college. Every one of those jobs was doing something for someone(s) and whether manual labor or technical or brain-work, always felt a responsibility to do well for them. Every one of these required me to show up on time and do what was expected, including a job from age 13-18 at a golf course that started at 5:30 and ended 30 minutes after dark. Being late was not an option.

Not sure where that came from, probably a combo of family expectations early on, pressure to keep the job, just good genes, who knows!