Summertime, when the working ain't easy

With so many "Help Wanted" signs adorning the windows of Irish bars and cafes, summer work has never been easier to find. No longer is it necessary to travel. But that doesn't mean you should stay put. Thousands of students leave for Europe, America and Australia every year to pay rent, pay taxes and, in short, pay their summertime dues.

The reward? Money for the year ahead, if you're strapped for cash. A two-week holiday, if you're lucky. Lessons in life, if you're wise.

Before the student occupations in the summer of 1969, Labour leader Ruairi Quinn worked for nearly every sojourn from his architecture undergraduate course at UCD.

"After my first year at UCD, I worked the night shift at a pea-canning factory in England for about 10 weeks for seven shillings and six pence. We were bored to death so we organised a production race. When output rose, management of course thought it was wonderful.

"Working as a contract draughtsman in London was the first time in my life I really had money. There were four of us crammed into a bedsit in Earls Court, taking turns on the bed and floor. Eventually we moved to a decent flat in Notting Hill Gate. I bought a Lambretta 150 c.c. scooter and took a trip through France, Italy and Switzerland."

High point:

"Travelling Europe in my desert boots, parka and Ben Sherman button-down shirt."

Low point: "The reality of quasi-manual, underpaid industrial production work."

Writer Patricia Scanlan's latest book, City Lives, is published by Poolbeg Press. She also conceived the Open Door series of books designed to improve adult literacy.

"When I was around 15, I was on Cadbury's Crunchie line packing and wrapping in Coolock. For the first couple of days I felt seasick, swaying by the conveyor belt, not helped by the stench of hot chocolate. "Unfortunately, it didn't put me off chocolate for life. I wore a white coat, hat and hair net. The supervisor had a maroon uniform and everybody was in awe of her. My friend's father got me the job. I felt lucky as there weren't a lot of jobs around then." "They were quite security-conscious and might check staff so that they wouldn't take stuff home, although we could eat broken bits and pieces. My other friends sat in the park shooting the breeze. I thought: `I'm going to have to work for the rest of my life.' It was my first experience of nine-to-five work, for which I earned about £15 per week. I always wanted control over my time. Today, I have that freedom. If the sun is splitting the trees, I always get out in it."

High point: "Getting that brown envelope every week. It felt very grown up."

Low point: "Sitting inside in the heat while my friends sunned themselves outside."

Des Geraghty is president of SIPTU, which accounts for 40 per cent of trade union members. He recently helped persuade 200,000 SIPTU members to vote for the Programme for Prosperity and Fairness.

"I started work at 11 years of age. I delivered bread, jam doughnuts, buns, and jugs of milk - before and after school. I usually took a jam doughnut to school with me. I spent a lot of my time around the Ivy Market on a big butcher's bike delivering fish and chickens for around two shillings and sixpence per week. "When I reached my teens, I went to London to work in the construction industry and, later, in telecommunications. I had two brothers in London. I got a great insight into the Irish living in London in the early 1960s. "There were a lot of Irish people working in the black economy. It gave me the opportunity to see it through the eyes of an emigrant. Those early days were very tough, with big numbers packed into small rooms. It discouraged me from going over as unskilled labour."

High point: "Earning enough money to go hiking in the mountains with An Oige."

Low point: "Scattering my fish all over the road...and scrubbing to get rid of the stink."

Entrepreneur Denis O'Brien's summer jobs included working in his father's factory, selling branding irons, and painting at home and abroad, even after he got his MBA.

"Andy McGlynn, the manager at the Central Hotel in Dublin, gave me my first summer job as a bell hop at 13. It was about £14 a week. I carried bags for American tourists who were on economy holidays. It was tough to get tips out of them. I learned quickly about human nature. My next job was as a waiter at a Dublin wine bistro for 35p an hour, my first selling experience.

"David Kent and I scrubbed precast concrete on the Cunard building in London for 75p an hour. We slept in a youth hostel with Israelis, Arabs, Germans and Irish all in the same room. It was fantastic. Another friend, Kieran O'Reilly, and I set up a painting business in Hyannis. After Kieran painted the glass on our first job, the owner said: `You guys are Laurel and Hardy!'

High point: "We could spend some wages and use the rest for a week in Greece or a car."

Low point: "Spending the night painting a restaurant in London. The low-quality white paint came out grey in the morning."

In addition to television and film work, actress Dawn Bradfield was nominated for a Tony Award last year for her role in the Broadway production of Martin McDonagh's The Lonesome West.

"I worked in (camera and film makers) Fuji during the summer and Christmas holidays for two years while doing a business studies and management degree at the College of Commerce in Cork. If I had my choice, I would have been working in Fiji. Before I started working there, I was really shy. It definitely brought me out of myself.

"When customers came in with something wrong with their cameras, we'd say, `Oh no, your camera's ruined. It's the tin worms. Can you see the tin worms?' They did believe, before we said we were kidding. One guy came in for passport photographs for Australia. He was being a bit of a smart ass, so I told him, `You need to get the front and back of your head shot for Australia'. He turned his back to the camera and took the photographs away with him."

High point:

"Dealing with the customers and having a laugh. It was always very harmless fun."

Low point:

"Hoovering the shop, dusting the cameras and, especially, cleaning out the machines."