In today’s New South Essays, an in-depth analysis of post-modern themes in contemporary Southern literature. But first, the jobs report… Monday, June 5, 2023, was a historic day for the Wallace household. All three offspring were gainfully employed. Now, back to literary blathering and self-important bloviating…
Seriously, though, Monday was a big day.
Barron, our eldest, has been working since late May at the University of Georgia’s Office of University Architects for Facilities Planning. It’s an internship for his degree in furnishings and interiors, and he’s loving it.
Besides getting to make recommendations for the furnishings for the new softball facility, he’s getting to tour construction sites and see how UGA approaches restoration of historic buildings and spaces, a true passion of his.
He’s even making helpful suggestions. Like when they needed rocking chairs for the athletes in the softball facility. His bosses told him to check the database where every piece of furniture, light fixture, building material and decorative item is cataloged, and find the rocking chairs used at the football complex.
“I know where you can get some good rocking chairs,” Barron offered helpfully. “Cracker Barrel.”
Glad to see he gets to flash that patented Wallace Wit at his new gig.
It’s not his first job – that prize goes to his summer as a dishwasher at Old Town Lilburn’s lone gourmet restaurant, 1910 Public House. That was the summer he learned a lot about life from the kitchen staff and decided he didn’t want to wash dishes for a living. He’s got one more year until graduation, and his career prospects are looking up.
Harris, our middle, landed his dream internship this summer from the Atlanta Bar Association. Our aspiring lawyer has been attending orientation sessions at the offices of Nelson Mullins Riley & Scarborough, LLP, in Atlantic Station in Midtown Atlanta before starting as a full-time intern for Gwinnett County Juvenile Court Judge Robert Waller on Monday.
He missed the first two orientation sessions with a mysterious fever that was confirmed to be neither COVID nor strep nor flu, but was validated by his doctor. Feeling behind, he was extra motivated to catch up quickly on all his required “enrichment” work, including memorizing the Preamble to the Constitution and some lawyer poem they inexplicably wanted the interns to know.
Harris is super excited to spend his summer in court, though he had the audacity last night over Los Hermanos chips and salsa to complain to me about having to drive into Midtown.
“Dude, don’t even,” I said with an eye roll, wondering what he thought I was doing for 10-plus years going to Georgia Tech and the University System of Georgia every day so that he could have clothes and food and shelter and entertainment and, oh, everything he has.
“No, Harris, tell me, what’s it like driving into town the TWO times you’ve had to do it.”
OK, dad rant over.
Harris’ great internship is paid, and it will allow him to see if this law stuff is something he wants to pursue before it’s too late. He hasn’t even started undergrad yet, and he’s already studying for the LSAT. The boy will benefit from a dose of reality.
And that leads me to Carlton, who landed the most serendipitously perfect summer job for him. In trying to find a productive and creative way to get him out of the house, Carla found that the Aurora Theatre in downtown Lawrenceville was doing a children’s production of “Finding Nemo Jr.”, the same production Carlton performed in for a special new works showcase at the Junior Theatre Festival back in January.
Turns out, they could use his knowledge and skills as a volunteer to help younger kids with the musical, and they could use his paid assistance as a childcare worker in the before and after childcare provided by the program.
So Carlton’s Muber driver (Mom+Uber) has been leaving the house each day at 7 a.m. and picking him up between 4:30 and 6 p.m., depending on when the last of his charges are retrieved. He got his first paycheck yesterday, and he stopped by the coffee shop next door to the theater after work and ordered and, more importantly to me, PAID FOR his own decaf iced mocha latte with vanilla cream.
Of course it set me to reminiscing about my first real job as an intern at the now defunct bastion of journalism that was the Lake Wales, Fla., Daily Highlander. When I received my first paycheck, I went to the Dairy Queen over by the Publix and ordered, and I’m sure most importantly to my dad, PAID FOR my own blizzard. That became my payday ritual. Every two weeks I would treat myself to a different blizzard until I had tried all the flavors. Never had ice cream tasted so good.
That’s the benefit of summer jobs: kids learning how the real world works with time sheets, commutes, taxes, responsibilities and small rewards. I think it’s great, and it thrills me to no end to come home from work and have to rouse the two still living under my roof from naps to come down for supper.
If they learn nothing else this summer, I hope they learn to apply themselves and find a way to derive meaning and fun from their jobs. Because now that it’s started, it’s a long way to retirement.
What was your favorite summer job? What was your first job? Leave your story in a comment below and join the conversation!
New South Essays 
After high school graduation, in May of 1966, my brother and sister-in-law invited me to live with them until I could earn enough money to enter Mercer. They lived in Chamblee. I landed a job working the night shift at the Kroger on Monroe Drive. A crew of around five stocked the shelves after the store closed. That summer job lasted through December. I entered Mercer in January of 1967. Before I left, the store manager invited me into his office. He wanted to thank me for the work I had done. He also wanted to tell me that the other four members of the night crew had been arrested earlier that week. The store had installed hidden cameras in an attempt to determine how so much merchandise had been going missing. They discovered it was being off-loaded directly from the 18 wheeler into private vehicles. I was the only night employee not involved. It was a valuable lesson for a 17 year old.