Few things beat the thrill of that first paycheck

When I first started working, mowing lawns and baby sitting at 9 (younger than my youngest is now), I had a deal with my mom. I always gave her half of my earnings. Then, when I wanted to buy something major, she and Dad would match whatever she had saved back for me. At 10, I bought my first pony with the $50 Mom held out of my money and the $50 they provided. Of course, when I self-righteously tell this story to my kids about the benefits of thriftiness and paying your own way, I always neglect to mention the fact that Dad also bought the tack, the feed and the paid the boarding fees.

Using this system, I traded up and got my first horse, then saved for my half of my first car (a 1972 Pinto. I learned how to replace the starter with my eyes closed in five minutes flat.) I was a lot better at saving back then. I'm not sure when I got hit by the mass consumption-instant gratification virus, but I hope and pray daily for a vaccine to cure it.

When Scott started his job, I tried to implement the same system, but it didn't work. When he handed me $250 from his own share of his earnings to pay for his first ticket to Bonnaroo, I realized he was much better at saving money than I ever was or ever would be. I let him keep his own checks from then on.

Ben, unfortunately, is more like me. Money doesn't burn a hole in his pocket -- it would have to actually make it as far as his pocket to burn a hole in it. I've never seen a dollar bill leave scorch marks on a counter before, but it does when it's leaving Ben's hands.

So I presented him the same deal. Half of the paycheck goes to me to hold for him until he wants to make a big, parent-approved purchase. I graciously let him keep all of his first check -- the entire $13.69. Then I had to borrow $10 of it back because I forgot to take enough money to the grocery store with us.

That first paycheck, the first "big" one, the first real one -- it has an almost mystical quality about it. Can you remember what you purchased with your first real paycheck? I bought a starter for my Pinto. My boss, Kent Flanagan, didn't see his "paycheck" for the first three years he worked in the fields for a neighbor back in Texas -- but he got to ride it away -- a light bay mare he kept until he went into the service.

City editor John Carney can't remember what he spent his first check on.

"I was more excited about working at the radio station than about the money," he said.

Being a deejay was more fun than waiting tables at Shoney's? Really? Ya think?

Some kids get all the cool jobs and the rest of us serve strawberry pie.

Coworker Brian Mosely had no problem at all remembering what he blew the first bankroll on.

"A big stereo system for my car," he said. "The one that got stolen later in Nashville. I already knew how I was going to spend it."

Lifestyles editor Sadie Fowler doesn't remember specifically what she spent her first check on, but has it narrowed down to clothes, food and going out.

"I didn't do anything wise with it," she said, laughing.

I don't think you should have to do anything wise with the first check. It's the one you use to throw yourself a "Welcome to the Working World" party in the form of fancy shoes, a new DVD player, a computer game or a concert ticket. From here on out, John Q. Wage Earner, your checks have to be dedicated to paying for things such as car insurance, groceries and electric bills, so enjoy this respite while you can.

I told Ben I was going to let him keep all of his first big check, too, not just the training day pocket change. Since I'd caught him and his little brother raiding Buzz's piggy bank last week, pooling pennies for a new PS2, I was pretty sure what the first McCheck was going to go for. It wouldn't have been my choice (Pinto starters were much more useful), but then, it isn't my money.

Ben's growing up, too. Maybe he'll spend the money on cool clothes instead of video games, or on some sheet music for his electric keyboard.

I could be wrong about Ben's fiscal intentions, as well as his plunge into the adult world of sensible spending. He was counting up hours and trying to guesstimate what that first check would be when he stopped, grinned, and turned to me.

"How much would it cost for all of us to go to the drive-in?" he asked. "I want to take us to see 'Where the Wild Things Are."

"Tell you what," I said. "You buy the tickets -- I'll pay for the food."

"It's a deal."

-- Mary Reeves is a Times-Gazette staff writer. She can be reached at mreeves@t-g.com.