My goodness. Really nailing down my first job is quite a toughie. My Ba owned restaurants while I was growing up so I always ended up working in those. At the tender age of six or seven I started serving people mostly because I was really cute and the customers thought I was really cute so they left me giant tips. My main responsibility at that age was eating pieces of bread that I coated in whipped cream mounds. Mmmm... delicious. Later on, the restaurant job transformed into something more closely resembling child labor but who's counting.

Officially my first job, though, was landscaping for my bff Heather's dad, Bill. We would spread bark and weed during summers in middle school and high school. Let me tell you something about bark. That is one thick overwhelming smell when it's hot outside. Big bark pile. Sometimes we would dig trenches too and build rock walls. But more than anything we'd make Bill go buy us cheeseburgers so we could sit in the bark pile looking like cute little hotties of summer and we'd flirt with his spry immigrant workers.