MEMO TO TEENS: GET OFFLINE & ON THE JOB

I'm not talking about "Daily News columnist," "1210 talk-show host," "lawyer" - or even my appointment in the Bush administration. (That's Bush the Father, not Bush the Son.)

I'm thinking of my earlier credentials: Window washer. Magician. Maintenance man. Flower delivery boy. Pool-store driver.

These were just some of my summer jobs. I was always out hustling. One year, a buddy and I painted street address numbers on curbs for a buck a house. Even now, I will look outside on a sunny day and wish I could do it again, for just one day. Even those jobs that I disliked were good experiences.

But as Bob Dylan sings, the times they are a-changin'. Nowadays, fewer kids work in the summertime. And I don't like it.

According to the U.S. Labor Department, the number of teens aged 16 to 19 who worked or looked for work last July dropped to just 60.6 percent - and this July the number is expected to be even lower.

The teen summer job force is the lowest in four decades. I guess that's why the temporary "Help Wanted" signs at fast-food joints now have a look of permanence.

True, some of today's teens are focusing on academic programs and internships. But I suspect many more are just plain lazy and spending too much time online.

I earned my first pay washing windows. The excitement of a $25 paycheck is something I remember well. And I recall the day I found $20 in the parking lot and turned it in. I was offered half of it as a tip. Honesty has its rewards, I concluded.

I also remember the day at Mickey D's when our manager got a call from a friend, the manager at the Lansdale store, to warn that the "Mac Bus," a roving group of supervisors who checked into each outlet's cleanliness and efficiency (they carried stop-watches to time how fast their orders were filled), was on its way to our store in Doylestown.

I got my first taste of death and grieving - and saw my first stiff - while delivering flowers.

And I had a taste of celebrity while delivering chlorine to Larry Kane's house when I drove a truck for a pool company. That was also the job where I learned how to read a map.

My summer jobs taught me the difference between good and bad bosses, co-workers who slacked off and those who pulled their weight, how to earn a raise - and how not to get fired. That's what today's teens are missing.

This week on the radio, I asked four movers and shakers about their most memorable summer job.

SAM KATZ told me he delivered the U.S. mail in Ardmore. Pat Gillespie, of the Building and Construction Trades Council, said he was a caddy. The Convention Center's Bob Butera rented out beach chairs in Ocean City. And union leader Johnny Doc worked for the recreation department.

Note to parents: Get your kids off the computer, out of the house and into the work force.

Ah yes...the summer of flipping burgers, making sandwhiches, and servin' fries...

Sounds boring...shoulda tried bucking hay bales at a buck an hour...general field work and the usual farm chores...then there was the annual spring cleaning of the loafing shed, a winter's worth of manure and straw to move, not all of it by tractor mounted scoop. Milking at 5 and 5 every day. But them summer nights in town...ooo baby!

But I suspect many more are just plain lazy and spending too much time online.

Amen! The era of instant gratification has bred a generation of college-age workers that are the most lazy and shiftless I have EVER seen...as an asset to a small business; their value borders on nil. They have no work ethic whatsoever. I did speak with several college students today who are terribly worried about the rain forest, however. (Before the flames hit, I will acknowledge that there are SOME exceptions to the rule. Those exceptions should be cultivated at all costs.)

I worked weekend nights at an answering service that had one cordboard switchboard they couldn't move to the new offices. It had very few 24-hour customers so it wasn't too challenging.

One customer ran an ad in hunting magazines for a "bark collar". It sent a small electrical shock to a dog's larynx whenever it barked. It was used to teach dogs not to bark unless they had a darned good reason.

One evening, I get a call from someone wanting to know more about the product. All I had as reference was a copy of the magazine ad. He wanted to know if it worked on other animals.

"I suppose not," I answered. "What type of animal did you have in mind?"
"A cougar."
"How would this help you with your cougar?," I asked.
"He keeps tearing down my drapes."
"Well, if your cougar barks like a dog whenever he tears down your drapes," I politely responded, "this product's for you. Otherwise, I'd forget the whole idea."

The next week I was written up for "talking smart" to our callers.

This also goes a long way in explaining why there's such a need for illegal immigrants doing the "work that Americans don't want to do." Where I was growing up in a Northern New Jersey suburb of N.Y. city, kids started hustling for bucks by cutting lawns, shoveling snow out of driveways, caddying at the club, you name it. I never saw men standing around on lawns in town waiting for contractors or private citizens to pick them up for a days work. It never would have been tolerated.

On the plus side this means less competition from hard working youths as the baby boomers get older and more prone to age discrimination. Age may almost be seen as a plus.

Not only does the work look good on the resume, it builds skills and enables a young person to earn the things they want out of life. During high school, I worked and paid for my own car. It was eight years old, but it meant more to me than those teens who had new cars given to them by their parents.

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