A Kid Delivers Newspapers

For a child growing up in the 1980s, one not yet a teen, there was no greater job than newspaper delivery. Or rather, that’s the way popular media portrayed the work. ET, the Goonies, and many others portrayed the life of a roving, young newspaper delivery person. Usually on a bicycle, during the day, children could easily carry and deliver a few dozen newspapers and be done with their job.

My work as a newspaper deliverer started in 1987, just after I entered the sixth grade. A neighbor’s son had a paper route, delivering the Washington Post. But he was looking to divide up the work because he would soon be going off to college, and well, I suppose he didn’t like the idea of waking up every morning at 5 am.

That’s right, to get the newspaper to subscribers before they left for work, we had to get them their newspapers before 7 am. Now, I can’t recall exactly how I agreed to do this job. I know that my mom presented it to me and told me that she would help me get the job done. We would deliver the newspaper three days a week. Somehow I ended up doing it.

This route was one of a number in the general area where I lived. As compared to others, this route was small, with anywhere between 80 and 110 customers at a given time. That was another thing about this job, you had to keep track of who was and was not receiving newspapers.

In addition, the newspapers had to be delivered in plastic bags. So before delivering them, they had to be rolled up and stuffed into bags, then loaded into the car. That’s right, this newspaper delivery gig could not be done on a bicycle. Even though we didn’t cover a huge distance, a large number of newspapers takes up a lot of space, more space than one might imagine, when they’re rolled up individually.

The summers were great. The winters were brutal. We delivered in every type of weather. Nothing stopped us. It didn’t matter how hard it rained or snowed. It didn’t matter how cold it was. It didn’t matter if the snow was deep. We got the job done.

Once my partner left for college, I asked a friend and his father to split the route, which we did.

I worked this job, with the strong support of my mom, for five years, until I started playing basketball in high school and had early morning practices.

Getting up several times a week at five o’clock in the morning to deliver newspapers taught me something. Showing up matters and doing a decent job matters — at least when it comes time to getting tips. While the pay was small, about seven cents a paper, the real prize came at the end of the year when we would put out tip envelopes.

The tips could go from 5 to 100 dollars, but most came somewhere in the middle. And with about 100 homes, nearly all of them gave. So, you do the math. For a young kid, even splitting evenly, it was a good winter haul.

There was no greater job than newspaper delivery for a child growing up in the 1980s, one not yet a teen. Or rather, that’s the way popular media portrayed the work. ET, the Goonies, and many others portrayed the life of a roving, young newspaper delivery person. Usually on a bicycle, during the day, children could easily carry and deliver a few dozen newspapers and be done with their job.

My work as a newspaper deliverer started in 1987, just after I entered the sixth grade. A neighbor’s son had a paper route, delivering the Washington Post. But he was looking to divide up the work because he would soon be going off to college, and well, I suppose he didn’t like the idea of waking up every morning at 5 am.

That’s right, to get the newspaper to subscribers before they left for work, we had to get them their newspapers before 7 am. I can’t recall precisely how I agreed to do this job. My mom presented it to me and told me she would help me get the job done. We would deliver the newspaper three days a week. Somehow I ended up doing it.

This route was one of a number in the general area where I lived. This route was small compared to others, with anywhere between 80 and 110 customers at a given time. That was another thing about this job; you had to keep track of who was and was not receiving newspapers.

In addition, the newspapers had to be delivered in plastic bags. So before delivering them, they had to be rolled up, stuffed into bags, and loaded into the car. That’s right, this newspaper delivery gig could not be done on a bicycle. Even though we didn’t cover a vast distance, a large number of newspapers takes up a lot of space, more than one might imagine when rolled up individually.

The summers were great. The winters were brutal. We delivered in every type of weather. Nothing stopped us. It didn’t matter how hard it rained or snowed. It didn’t matter how cold it was. It didn’t matter if the snow was deep. We got the job done.

Once my partner left for college, I asked a friend and his father to split the route, which we did.

I worked this job, with the strong support of my mom, for five years until I started playing basketball in high school and had early morning practices.

Getting up several times a week at five o’clock in the morning to deliver newspapers taught me something. Showing up matters, and doing a decent job matters — at least when it comes time to getting tips. While the pay was small, about seven cents a paper, the real prize came when we would put out tip envelopes at the end of the year.

The tips could go from 5 to 100 dollars, but most came in the middle. And with about 100 homes, nearly all of them gave. So, you do the math. Even splitting evenly was an excellent winter haul for a young kid.

Doing something well, like putting a newspaper on someone’s porch every morning, can make a difference in someone’s life or at least impact their mood. Since most reading this no longer get newspaper delivery, I can assure you that having to walk out in rainy or snowy weather to get the paper still sucks. There’s nothing pleasant about it. While it’s not the defining moment of anyone’s day, it’s undoubtedly a factor in one’s day, particularly if it isn’t starting well or is anticipated to be bad.

Sometimes the little things we judge to be insignificant have a real impact on people’s lives. And I learned that when tips would pour in at the end of the year, people would write us notes or comment how much they appreciated having the paper put on their stoop. Yes, it sounds silly. But still, doing things the right way can make a difference in the world.

This is a job that I felt good about. Reflecting on that time, I think about how difficult it was. And I had the support of a loving family who helped me every day. Still, it wasn’t easy. It was exhausting. But even when I didn’t want to do it, when I wanted to sleep in, I had to. People relied on me.

On that fundamental level, delivering newspapers was one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. No, it didn’t require intellectual might. I wasn’t solving world problems. But I delivered a service people wanted and did it well (with help). Before Google News, there was me, setting out people’s newspapers on their front stoops.

As first jobs go, it was ideal. First, I didn’t have an actual boss. I had a task, and I did it independently. No one came after me or oversaw me, or gave criticism. Second, I regularly received praise and a bonus. Third, I shared responsibility. To be sure, I had to carry my weight, but we shared recognition for our accomplishments.