Archive for the ‘Getta JOB’ Category

It’s Sunday! We’ve made it a week of posting EVERY SINGLE DAY! I know you’re excited too, right? (…hello? Is this thing on? Anybody here? Bueller?!) So today, I thought I’d open up the mailbag, and see what question popped up first. Remember, you can ask PTB for snarky answers to you’re teenager woes too! Just click right here (or hit the Ask PTB link at the top of the page!) and we’ll get our snark on!

Today’s Question:
My teenager thinks I’m made of money! He goes to school, sleeps, doesn’t help around the house and expects me to hand him cash every time he needs something! I can’t afford this – should I make him get a job?
– Frustrated (and broke!) Mom.

Well, first off, FM – have you tried to make him do anything yet? Because in my experience, teenagers don’t “make” well. I tried to make mine get out of bed before noon on a weekend once! I tried everything! Have you seen that commercial where the mom simply uses windex to clean the windows and the extra sunlight got her kids up? Yeah. NEVER HAPPENS.

But that’s beside the point. A job! There’s a lot of different opinions on the job issue, a lot of factors go into deciding if a teen should work or not, and how much if he does get a job. Here are some things to consider:

1. Social life: Does he have one? Does he want one? Who pays for it if he does?

2. School: Is he a good student? Can he keep up his grades if you add work into the mix? Is the job he’s seeking flexible enough with his schedule so that he can keep his grades up?

3. Sports: Does he have time for the above, plus sports if he’s into that, and is his job flexible enough for a sports schedule?

4. Money: Here’s the tricky part. Can you afford to pay for his car, gas, activities, etc? Does he get an allowance to pay for those, and is there a limit on ‘extras’ he can ask for? Have you discussed finances with him? Why the hell not?

I know that money is often a far more dirty word than ’sex’ or ‘drugs’ when it comes time to talk to you’re teenager, but if you don’t train him in good financial habits now, you are only doing your child a disservice. Whether you encourage him to get a job or not, teaching him budgeting is a must, so that he learns the value of saving for something he really wants, because that’s what happens in the real world.

If you and your teen make the decision that he needs a job, then there will be quite a bit of adjusting for the both of you. All I can really say is what’s worked for us – and also what I ALWAYS say: TALK TO YOUR TEEN.

Yeah, you know I was gonna say it, didn’t ya?

Around here the rule is:
Want to drive? Get a job and pay for your own gas/insurance. I can’t afford it.
Want a car? See above.

I relax a lot about them doing things around the house if they’re working, especially as The Boy works so many hours. He’s rocking a 40+ hour work week, plus school. He does have Work Release, so gets out of school early, and often uses that time to nap, but it’s still pretty hard on him. But he bought his own truck, handles his insurance, and has plenty of cash left over to do whatever he wants. (It usually involves sharp and pointy things. Boys!)

I don’t ask him to pay any bills aside from his insurance. His job, his money. He works as hard as he wants to get what he wants, and that’s ok with me. Time will come all too soon when he has to support himself.

Bottom line is this: Talk to you teen, and see what their goals are. Then work together to find a solution.

When I was a young mother..

(You know, yesterday.)
(Stop laughing.)

.. of just two – back before the Pup joined us and made our life infinitely more complicated and hectic and also, ya know, perfectly complete – We still went out on a regular basis. We did the things that other parents did, searching for JUST THE RIGHT baby sitter, so that we could go and dance (and drink) and have fun while assured our kids were lovingly taken care of back at home. We used Nana and Papa mostly, but sometimes even they wanted a break from my perfect children.

(…snort. Perfect children. You can laugh there. Really. It’s ok.)

After a lot of searching, we finally found her. She was dating the brother in law of my Manager at KFC at the time. Her name is Nicole, but The Boy called her Nickel from day one, which we all found completely adorable. Except for maybe, Nicole, but ya know blond haired blue eyed little boys get away with an AWFUL LOT! Nickel was young when she started babysitting for us, just 13 or so, but she had a calm presence and a cool head that made it easy to trust her. (That and 15 emergency phone numbers and regular check in calls, but whatever.) She helped potty train the boy, she adored Peppermist and played endless hours of power rangers and barbies, and watched that damn whale movie 18 gazillion times because the Boy was obsessed with Free Willy. (While he was potty training. Coincidence?)

We added the third baby, though we no longer were the wild party animals we once were, and didn’t need the babysitting still. The kids grew, and Nickel grew up (though never grew, she’s a wee tiny thing!) and soon my kids were taller than she is, and she pouted whenever she saw them – seeing the boy drive makes her heart hurt – about as much as realizing he’s twice as tall as she is now, too! She went on to do the normal things – went to school, became a teacher (She got her own classroom this year at the elementary school our kids go to – our poor kids had to learn to say “Mrs. C” instead of “Aunt Nicky”). She always remained close, keeping in touch with my sister and myself, and then she found “the” guy, got married and…

…had a baby.

Now you see where this is going – and how it comes full circle. The other day Peppermist came home all happy and giddy, because she got a new Babysitting job – for Aunt Nicky.

Sometimes living in a small town is TOTALLY worth it.

Sometimes this parenting gig really sucks. You see, it went down like this:

The boy’s work has a food item once a year in march, that’s full of minty green goodness. I prefer it mixed half and half with chocolate, because mmmmmmm chocolate mindy goodness! Every single year, since the store has opened in our area, I get this delicious mix of flavors without any problem. Until a couple days ago.

A couple days ago, my tastebuds were screaming for this once a year treat, and I hit up the drive thru for it. I was told that they couldn’t do that. I stammered “but… huh? since when?” and was told it wasn’t allowed. I said well, then pull TWO – one chocolate, one mintygreen, and pour half of each into a third cup and give it to me. They said no again. Color me disappointed. I had a large diet coke instead. Sigh.

That’s when I made the first mistake. I told my son. Who was all “aw HEYALL naw!” And, despite my protestations took me in, to ask what happened and again ask for the chocomint treat, before he decided to go behind the counter and make it himself. Someone narked – someone who has done her fair share of mistakes too.

Cue bedlam. Not right then, no, but when he went to check his schedule the next day. They suspended him for a day for “going behind the counter out of uniform and making a shake for his mommy, messing up the machine.” Yes, a professional write up included the word “mommy”. (cute rolling eyes HERE). And the machine was not messed up either.

Not only that, but now instead of 30 days to make crew trainer, they’re making him wait 6 months, and spent his entire shift yesterday berating him for this, and for half a dozen other things that were totally unrelated to him, while praising folks that have multiple write-ups for REAL reasons, etc. They even told him that we should have just asked them to pull two shakes and pour half of each into the third.

….uh. yeah. I did.

And yeah, cue mama feeling like shit for something that was thought by all involved to be all in fun – complain in fun, pick on the counter in fun, smiling managers having fun. Alas, something between the time we left, and the time he went back the next day to check his schedule made them decide it was ‘dump shit on The Boy day’. They made my kid feel like shit, they made my tough yet sensitive baby boy cry in frustration when he got home, and quite frankly, I’m mad as hell about it.

What really sucks, is that there’s nothing I can do about it, despite being the unwitting instigator of all of this. I have never been one to nark, but part of me wants to anonymously call and complain about the amount of messed up orders, the rude employees, the mishaps here and there that I know about. Part of me wants to rush in and demand they lay blame were it belongs – at the customer that complained and started all of this (which would be me) all for want of a chocomint treat.

All I can do, is hug him and talk to him and listen to him and try to give him ways to deal with this ball of shit thats rolling downhill. It’s clear that something’s going on higher up, and we all know that rolls downhill, especially in the fast food industry. He’s been told by the manager who is still on his side, to just put a happy face on it all for the next little while, and it’ll blow over. The boy doesn’t like putting on a happy face when he doesn’t feel it, but I all I can really do is encourage him to do the same.

It just plain sucks.

ETA: But I haven’t lost my touch to make him smile while facing a crap day. All it takes is rewriting Beyonce’s “Put a ring on it”. Observe:

Here’s my finger you can sit on it…
Here’s my finger you can sit on it…
Don’t be mad when i make you spin on it…
Here’s my finger you can sit on it…
Oh oh OH oh oh OH oh oh OH oh oh OH….

The boy: You really know how to make somone feel special, mom.”
With a smile, even.

I know. I’m not normal.