A teenager's guide to the steamiest—and easiest—summer jobs.

The summer after I finished ninth grade, I spent three days a week organizing PowerPoint presentations for the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health Distance Education Division. I didn't get paid, my help wasn't all that needed, and the slide shows were way too specialized for me to learn much more than the definition of the word "cohort." Still, my parents were elated: Instead of lazily wasting my summer days watching MTV or reading or hanging out at the pool, I was being "productive," gaining ever-invaluable "work experience."

Did I really need a summer job? I was 15, my family was financially stable, I didn't want to buy a car or a new television or a video-game system. What I did want was to enjoy my youth until responsibility beckoned. But my parents vigorously believed I needed to learn responsibility, I needed to get out of the house, yada yada yada yada …

This parent-child friction is not a bizarre idiosyncrasy of the Zenilman family. It is a hallmark of middle-class America. And as a result young teenagers are routinely denied the joy of doing nothing for six weeks.

I would like to say this is a bad thing. I want to go on a sanctimonious, immature rant about how the summer-job obsession is just a manifestation of middle-class parents' guilt about spoiling their children; I want to indict mothers and fathers for using work as a ploy to get us out of their houses. I'm even willing to take the implied position of a New York Times article that appeared on July 14 and argue that middle-class teens are taking jobs needed by the less-fortunate members of their communities. Indeed, the code of adolescent laziness nearly demands that I try to prove these points.

But ... I can't quite bring myself to make this argument with conviction. We may have to grudgingly concede that our parents are right. There's something to be said for having responsibilities that go beyond due dates and trying to respect your siblings.

However, lazy youth of America, there is still hope! A summer job need not suck. Just listen to my advice. At the behest of Slate, I have compiled and judged the most popular summer jobs available to high-school students. Every single one of these jobs is attainable; you don't need work experience or parental connections or a high-school diploma to get it. I've evaluated the jobs according to the factors that matter most to Generation Y: wages, availability, and last but not least, the hook-up factor. If you think that publishing a summer job guide in July is a bit behind the curve, then you're looking at it the wrong way. I've given you a head start for next summer.

Food  Service

Job: Burger flipper/Cappuccino maker/Burrito roller.
They say you learn how to: Be part of a team, flip burgers, etc.
You really learn how to: Mindlessly obey corporate dogma and/or spit in other people's food.
Upside: Free chalupas!
Downside: To quote Fast Food Nation: "There is sh*t in the meat."
Wages: $5.50-$8 per hour.
Minimum age: 14 (although most places start at 16).
How do I get this job? Spend a Sunday in May at a food court or rest stop filling out all the applications.
Hook-up factor: Very low. Cheap, garish visors do not qualify as a turn-on.

Job: Supermarket worker bee.
They say you learn how to: Bag groceries, stock shelves, work a cash register.
You really learn how to: Drive motorized wheelchair shopping carts.
Upside: Air-conditioning 24/seven and the fact that the job requires absolutely no thinking or effort.
Downside: No time to sit down and the fact that the job requires absolutely no thinking or effort.
Wages: $6-$10 per hour.
Minimum age: 14 (for baggers), 16 (for everyone else).
How do I get this job? Start nagging your local supermarkets and drug stores … in March.
Hook-up factor: Low. There are two problems: a) Writing your phone number on grocery-store receipts is a bit too cheesy for most to pull off; and b) if you're a bagger, the only people you'd have time to flirt with are the people who are buying lots of groceries, i.e., moms (and dads!) with minivans and toddlers.

Job: Busboy, waiter, or hostess at a mid-priced restaurant.
They say you learn how to: Interact with people, read a wine list, serve food.
You really learn how to: Make "house dressing" out of mayonnaise and assorted other condiments, furtively sweep up shards of the plate you dropped.
Upside: Surely TGI Friday's doesn't need all that beer on tap. …
Downside: You have to choose between day shifts (when no one comes in and you get no tips) and night shifts (where you'll miss out on your prime chances for sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll while hanging out with your friends).
Wages: Hostesses make between $6.50 and $10 per hour; waiters are tip-dependent—a night shift can garner anywhere from $50 to $120. Day shifts are less lucrative. Busboys usually make less than the waiters, unless they are working the bar, where you sometimes get a portion of the bartender's tips.
Minimum age: 14. But at most restaurants you need to be at least 16 to be a waiter or hostess.
How do I get this job? Something called the Yellow Pages and the ability to lie brazenly about past experience in "the business."
Hook-up factor: High if you're a hostess or waitress wearing a tight shirt. Moderate if you're a waiter with a modicum of charm. Low if you're a 15-year-old busboy who has to wear a goofy Hawaiian shirt. ... Trust me, I know from experience.

Fun in the Sun