My First Paycheck
I still remember my first paycheck like it was yesterday.
I was 17, working weekends at a local diner washing dishes. It was hot, it was greasy, and the hours dragged—but I didn’t care. At the end of that first week, the manager handed me a small envelope. Inside: $142.38.
I walked home holding that envelope like it was a winning lottery ticket.
I didn’t deposit it right away. I just kept looking at it, over and over. I showed it to my mom. She smiled, gave me a hug, and said, “Feels good to earn your own money, doesn’t it?”
It did. That was the first time I realized how hard work connects to real results. That paycheck wasn’t just money—it was proof. I traded my time and energy for something tangible, and it made me respect every dollar after that.
I didn’t blow it all, either. I bought myself a pair of sneakers I’d been eyeing for months—and gave my mom $20 just to say thanks. She cried. I think we both knew it meant something bigger.
That first paycheck didn’t make me rich, but it taught me the value of independence. And every paycheck since has carried a little bit of that feeling with it.
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