$1.35 per hour sorting donations to the Neighbourhood Services, a Goodwill-type organization in Ottawa, Ontario. It was 1971 and I was 16, and my social-worker grandmother got me the job. Most of the other workers were middle-aged French-speaking women, and to the best of my knowledge I was the only person there who could read a newspaper, a duty I performed for general entertainment and edification during our half-hour lunch break. Mrs. Willibond, the lady at the next table, had 13 children and was utterly convinced that everyone born before Jesus and his mother were invited to the wedding in Cana was a bastard because ... well, you had to be there. She explained it to me over and over again.

The plant was filthy and hot, and you never knew what was in a bag or box when you picked it up (the job required a strong back) and put it on the work table. One of the women suffered a nasty hand injury from a box of kitchen knives nestled in a box of bed linen, and bags often contained filthy clothing and rags. The only protective clothing anyone wore was a loose shop coat or housedress. I shudder when I remember the floors, and the incredibly unsuitable shoes everyone wore.

The next year I graduated from high school and joined the Naval Reserve -- $9.00 per day during summer training. It was a great improvement with respect to cleanliness and working conditions, but not nearly as educational as the Neighbourhood Services.