When I first arrived in Australia as a young man, my first job was selling newspapers. My initial week was an unpaid internship, earning me zero dollars. Don’t be fooled into thinking that standing on a street corner and holding out a newspaper is simple labor. It isn’t.
It turns out, even selling newspapers requires a disciplined education.
The papers were delivered at 7:00 PM, but the peak selling hours didn’t start until 10:00 PM. That’s when people—mostly couples—emerged from bars, feeling generous and carefree after a few drinks. You targeted couples immediately, knowing the sales rate was higher; no one wanted to look cheap in front of their date. After 11:00 PM, you quickly shifted location, moving your stack to the busy intersection where taxis paused at the traffic lights.
The hidden science of a $2 sale
The technique was meticulous. My newspapers had to be arranged precisely—no more than ten copies held neatly in my hand. Too many would hinder sales. We waited for the brief red light, then darted out to the stopped cars, thrusting the paper against the passenger door. At that moment, it was easiest for people to hand over a $2 bill for a $0.90 paper.
If you were quick, neat, and genuinely cheerful, the buyer often said, “Keep the change.”
That $1.10 tip was our profit. The commission on each paper was only ten cents, barely enough to cover the time spent. Our actual wage came entirely from the tip. That’s why, when rushing out to a car at the red light, you had to look impeccable and energetic. You had to convey genuine delight and honor in serving the reader. When customers felt your joy, they were happy to reward it.
The first week, I earned nothing. The weeks after, I averaged about $30 for an eight-hour shift. On a good night, I might pull in nearly $70. After selling until 2:00 AM, the greatest reward was a single, ice-cold can of Coke. That Coke—after eight hours of scrambling like a duck, sweating, and holding back everything (especially the need to pee)—tasted better than any fine wine.
The mantra of resilience
Throughout my subsequent careers—as a teacher, researcher, consultant, investor, and executive—I have always remembered and valued that first job. From that simple, manual labor, I learned volumes: patience, meticulousness, and most importantly, an unwavering optimism. When you can succeed at manual labor with a positive attitude, you can succeed at anything.
Whenever I face a daunting professional challenge, I remind myself: “I have sold papers. I have stood exposed on the street, smiling broadly while hungry and exhausted. There is nothing I cannot do.”
A defense of real-world learning
This is why I remain baffled by the recent public uproar over certain student internship programs, such as those at McDonald’s. An opportunity to gain hands-on experience and discipline without paying tuition fees is an incredible advantage. Why the frenzy? If a student cannot handle a minor commitment, how can they ever tackle a major one?
I recall a friend who interned at what was likely the world’s largest nuclear organization. His supervisor told him: “Thanh, don’t think that because you’re a Ph.D. you’re above anything here. If I tell you to clean the windows, you clean the windows. You must be willing to do everything.” My friend diligently completed every task and later became a leading expert.
I am already in line for my own child to intern at McDonald’s next year. With only 30 slots nationwide, this is hardly exploitation. I feel lucky that someone else is willing to teach my child these invaluable lessons. I only pray that McDonald’s doesn’t cease this program out of fear of good intentions being misinterpreted.
The best skills for a successful life are not found solely in textbooks; they are paid for with sweat and sealed with a smile.
