After my freshman year in college, I told my dad I didn't think college was for me. He got me a job with a contractor friend of his shingling roofs in Austin. I lasted a summer, then my ass was back in school for the fall semester.
Pay was good for the mid 80s-- ten buck an hour under the table straight cash on Fridays, plus lunch daily and a cold beer on the drive home. Same pay the illegals on the crew got. I'd drive to the boss's house in the am, we'd go pick up the rest of the crew--same two or three other guys every day on 1st street, north of the river, a few blocks west of Congress (I think it was about where the city hall is now). Worked 50- 60 hours a week. Even at 19 or 20 years old, working on a roof in august in Austin almost killed me.
I have nothing but respect for guys who work construction outside in hell holes like Austin now.
That job motivated me to stay in school and get a degree, and then a masters, and now I mostly work outside anyway, but not shingling roofs.