The Lifetime Value of My Old Passbook Savings Account

What summer employment taught me.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels

My work ethic has always been strong, dating back to my first job when I was about 11 years old—babysitting. I learned more from that job and my subsequent summer employment than from any other experience throughout my 67 years.

The best way to find out what you want from life is to try it during the summer.

My afternoon babysitting gig was born of happenstance. I was taking American Red Cross lifesaving classes at a freshwater glacial pond on Cape Cod, assisting with teaching and guarding during morning swim lessons. One morning, a mother with two children spoke to me and asked if I would be interested in watching her kids occasionally in the afternoons. Her husband commuted each weekend, just like my dad, but she was solo during the weekdays. Thrilled when my mother agreed, I quickly committed to two afternoons a week.

I was swimming in dough, or so I thought! That summer, I opened a passbook savings account and deposited all my earnings. Since it was a local bank, I left the balance untouched all winter to accumulate interest.

At 15, I applied to work at a local seafood restaurant my family frequented. My parents knew the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Berig, who had bought the restaurant in 1970, so my hiring was a foregone conclusion. I bussed tables three nights a week, from 5-9 pm, and on Saturdays, 12-5 pm, for two summers. It paid hourly wages, with no shared tipping, but that handwritten passbook showed that my effort paid off.

I began waitressing at The Lobster Claw at 17 and continued working there until the summer between my junior and senior years of college—my last full summer on Cape Cod. During those summers, my hours expanded to six nights a week, from 5 until close, and Saturdays from 12 until close. The Lobster Claw was legendary and remained open for 51 years before closing forever in 2020. As an aside, I also had a housekeeping job five days a week at a nearby hotel during my final summer, which left me with little time for the beach.

What do I remember from those summer work experiences?

The day after work, I would roll my change and rubber band my bills to deposit at the bank. I kept careful track of my earnings. Lobsters are served with drawn butter, which I invariably wore home on my red waitress dress. I could balance an entire tray of lobster dinners on my right hand over my shoulder and still manage to place it gracefully on a tray rack to table serve by myself. This ability to balance trays and clear multiple glasses has stayed with me throughout my life.

I learned to uncork wine bottles efficiently tableside using a very basic wine opener, and that skill has been a lifelong gift. Every server had to clean the public restrooms and check them periodically for supplies and cleanliness, which heightened my desire for clean bathrooms.

I recall taking a knife to the bottom of my work shoes each evening to scrape off the shells that stuck to the gummy underside from the lobsters and other shellfish. My mother insisted that this be done before I entered our cottage.

Mr. Berig referred to my friend S. and me as his “bookends.” While that term might seem derogatory today, he meant it affectionately, referring to us as two vivacious and pretty young blondes. We received good tips from happy customers, which helped the restaurant thrive, and Mr. Berig begged us to return each summer.

Customers often told me I closely resembled Julie Andrews, and my retort was: “If I could only sing like her, I wouldn’t be waitressing.” Occasionally, I was likened to Sandy Duncan. These days, I am noticed as a Jamie Lee Curtis double!

I learned that patrons’ drink orders should be taken and served immediately after seating; otherwise, they become irritated with the wait. My late husband often commented years later, when waiting too long for service, “Well, this would be a nice place to open a bar.”

In Massachusetts, the legal drinking age was 18, and most Saturday nights after work, we frequented the Barley Neck Inn in Orleans, where there was live music and a full bar. My curfew was 11 pm, which gave me just enough time for one White Russian, my favorite cocktail. I dated two different dishwashers, one of whom remained a lifetime friend.

Saturdays were ideal for working because I could order my dinner off the menu during a break. My favorite choice was lobster salad with a cup of clam chowder. Rainy Saturdays earned us great tips, which we all hoped for!

These work experiences provided not only income but also friendships and expertise. I developed my people skills to the point that I learned how to work a room in my teens—a skill that proved invaluable as I aged.

What happened to that passbook savings account?

Before returning to college for my senior year, I closed the account to buy a car—my prized gold Plymouth Scamp with a black top and interior. It was a used one-owner car with low mileage, and I loved it. What I valued most was the freedom it afforded me to visit my boyfriend, who was two hours away, attending law school while I finished my college experience. That worked well, as we happily enjoyed nearly 41 years of marriage.

The moral of this story is that you may just get what you want. Save for something you truly desire. All the money you earn means so much more in the end.

Thanks for spending time with me.

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Note: I owe credit to

Mark Imhoof

, and his recent story, “A Vaporized Truth,” about being down to a dollar in his bank account and what it taught him about life. It’s a great read and worthy of your time. It’s what made this story happen.