I flat out
loved my paper route. I had one from ages 9-14, and it was possibly the best job I've ever hand.
Every morning my dog and I went for a good long 2 hour walk, while the world slept. I got to spend time with my thoughts, he got to manage his kingdom and drive all the other dogs batty with his territorial marking while they were penned up inside. I got to have breakfast, my favourite meal, twice - once before and once after the walk.
Whenever I needed pocket money for any reason, I just had to stop and ask one of my neighbours for some. I learned utterly awful money management skills, which I still struggle with. Endless money (for a ten year old), available on the walk to the store or the arcade if I only stopped and asked for some. I was always behind on my collection of the fees, so a single house could yield ten dollars or more.
The money was utterly disconnected from the morning walk in my mind, which I usually enjoyed more than anything else. I had two routes, three at one point. Xmas was a joy, as everyone gave me chocolate and fat tips. I knew the names and subscription status of every house in our subdivision, and somehow I was able to remember it perfectly as I walked along every morning. If someone was on holidays their house wouldn't even enter my consciousness as I walked past it. The day of their return I'd find myself slipping the paper into the screen without even thinking about it.
I became an expert at the nuances of tossing a paper so as to land with the fluttery bits in the corner (and unlikely to fly away).
I'd do it now if it paid well enough. At five years I got my Edmonton Journal 5 years of service watch
. Shortly after that, my father decided that the early mornings were affecting my schoolwork (they weren't, it was the apathy what done it), and encouraged me to quit. Foolishly, I did.
