By Lisa 
So, the parents have officially kicked you out of the nest (or are threatening to) or perhaps you are just ready for less accountability (call us if you will be out late!) and mo money of your own. Or maybe you know someone who still is living in the basement of HIS parents’ house, sitting in the dark playing Tetris on an ancient flip phone and you realize what you DEFINITELY do not want to become. It’s OK, happens to all of us.
I remember when I got my first glimpse of freedom. I was living at home, working an incredibly low paying job and my Mama still washing my clothes. And when I say low paying I am talking FOUR figures. A year. Yeah. With my Bachelor’s degree in Communications (whoo hoo!) diploma mocking me as I walked back into my childhood bedroom each night and took off my name badge.
Did I mention WHERE the job was located? That would be on Interstate 75 just south of Atlanta Georgia, at a rest stop where tourists headed to Florida would stop to literally dump the waste from their RVs (and themselves), walk their dogs and pick up a brochure and a map. (Hey, don’t crack on me. No cell phones then, no GPS, only paper maps and you got to tinkle somewhere. It was just after the dinosaurs roamed the Earth and Microsoft was barely out of the garage. It was a JOB, OK!!???).
My job each morning was to roll out a lifesize plywood sign that had Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara painted on one side with the faces cut out. Tourists would come out of the bathroom, stick their heads through the holes and have their pictures taken. Polaroid pictures..Google it, Whippersnapper.
Then I would station myself along with two equally excited employees for eight hours or so inside the brochure area and answer questions like “How far is it to Disney?”, “Should I take the bypass around Macon to save time?” and “Why is this state so long with no rest areas?” (Answers: 361 miles. No, the bypass will not save you time, there is no traffic here. I have no idea but the restrooms are outside this door to your left.)
Four years of college. At least the diploma was printed on real nice paper and in a fake leather folder.
And about that big $9,000 annual salary. Yes it was the 1980’s but the average salary for a college grad back then was about $34,000. I had to choke down a lot of pride to take a salary that was less than a third of what I expected with all my fancy-smanshy college-knowledge. Truth was that I was glad to have that job because the market was pretty tight right then.
Your generation doesn’t have it a whole lot better now and maybe worse with a limited number of jobs available and a whole lot more people with those nice paper diplomas looking for the same jobs. But as I learned, you can get a decent job, learn, move up and out, and over time make a good living.
Let’s get you going so you don’t have to roll out signs for a living.
At least not forever. Unless you want to of course.