My parents recently moved to a house in the hills outside our city. I really wanted to stay behind, since our old place was close to college, friends and family, but I was barely getting by on an academic scholarship as it was, and I knew they couldn’t help with rent. At least they could help me with some gas money.
It’s fine, I told myself. You’ve only got a year of college left. Besides, living around open spaces will be fun. There are lots of trails to run. Plus, I’m more of a wallflower than partier, anyway.
Turns out I was so wrong. The appeal wore off quickly. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss social scenes and impromptu human connections. On top of that, not eating at home as much burned up what little spare money I had. The last thing I wanted to do was get a part-time job, but the likelihood of needing it was increasing.
I shared all of this with my friend and classmate, Alice. She responded that a nearby private golf course would need a beer cart girl soon. Her friend Katie had the job, but was leaving the area for an internship.
“Katie said the course has been really accommodating with her school schedule,” she told me as we chatted over iced coffee, “and she’s been making good money from tips.”
Her comment reminded me of the food service job I worked last summer. “Tip money is not going to make a...