You're sixteen years old and it's summer time. You finally got your beginners liscence and a part time job, so its time to spend all that cash you're making on gas and lunch at the mall with your girlfriends. You plan to spend the rest of the summer relaxing by the pool, or better yet, by the lake at camp with the cute neighbour and his friends. Yup, life is sweet!

Yeah, right.

I know, that was my original expectation of my sixteenth summer as well. Parties, shopping and male gender galore. But, how do you pay for these extravagent parties, your new clothes from the mall, and your movie ticket because your date is too cheap to pay for you both? Easy - you get a part time job.

Everybody has to have their first job eventually, unless of course you're Spencer Pratt. And, in a weird way, we all get excited to get one. Making money, being more independant, and ofcourse, meeting new people and creating new friendships. What no one ever thinks about, however, is how sucky those first jobs are.

There are so many problems with first jobs, I don't know where to begin. Lets begin with creating resumes. We all go through similar experiences when trying to make ourselves sound as employable as possible. But, HELLO? I have no job experience, with a few volunteer hours from cleaning up a park on a weekend when I had nothing better to do! Who could I possibly ask to reference me? Family friends and neighbours that you babysat for once or twice are a great place to start, and, as much as you DON'T want to 'go there', past and present teachers are excellent references to have (as long as you passed their class).

Now that you have your resume all filled out, where do you drop it off? Sure, that hot little boutique across from the movie theater is super hip, but guess what. Everyone thinks that, so EVERYONE applies there! The competition to get a job at the "hangout place" is ridiculous! So, make sure after you drop off your resume there that you have a few extra printed out to drop off at the gas station or the supermarket. Chances are the boutique isn't going to call you back.

Finally, after weeks of slowly using up the final chunk of birthday money, a business calls you back to set up an interview. You're so desperate for a job by now that you don't care that its a chain restraunt that pays minimum wage. You set up the date and time to shake hands and sign papers. The manager hands you your new dorky hat and vest. Congrats, you've just been hired.

Sure, you think on your first day, maybe it isnt the boutique, but its money in my pocket. All I have to do is wipe down tables, take out the garbage, and then I can drive to the mall with a tank full of gas. Easy enough, right?

Your mom greets you at the top of the stairs as you come home from your first shift, and shes only slightly surprised to see you are in tears. Before she even asks whats wrong you begin to scream. "My shoes are too tight, I have blisters everywhere! I didn't get one break! I hate my boss! I slipped in some kethcup and a little kid threw a french fry at me! I'm quitting!" You stomp away and slam your bedroom door.

As teenagers, we all have to experience the wonders of the first job. The blisters, the tears, the most annoying customers possible. You tell yourself time and time again that you're going to hand in you're two-weeks notice this week, but you never follow through. As materialistic as this might sound, we're all just happier with money in our pocket, no matter how miserable the fabulous first job make us.