"Are you afraid of getting burned?" asked my supervisor as I gingerly lifted a floppy, undercooked crêpe with a spatula. I looked at it with dismay as it fell apart. She swept it off to the side with one long motion of her own spatula, greasing the griddle again. "I’m not," she said as I struggled to spread the thick buckwheat batter evenly on the huge griddle.
On the other hand, if you're in rural America everything is 30 minutes away because towns are small, and if you're in urban America everything is 30 minutes away because cities are large. Limiting teenagers' options to jobs that can be reached in five minutes is, literally, limiting.
My mom has a saying: Be hopeful, not desperate.
For three sweet weeks in 2008 while the economy was on the brink of extinction, I decorated cupcakes. The job—froster at a cupcakes-only bakery—came from my roommate, who worked there on weekends. She was working part-time at the ACLU during the week. The decorator job opened up when she got a full-time spot campaigning for Death with Dignity.
Here's my ideal work schedule: Wake up at 6:30 a.m., and start reading the news while having a cup of coffee.
If you've got a 9-to-5 kind of job, have you noticed yourself working longer hours but not seeing any additional financial benefits from putting in the extra hours?
It's been nearly six years since I've had to go through the job-hunting and interview process and hope I don't have to do so again for a very long time (if ever again). On Backchannel, Deborah Branscum examines why the way we typically hire for jobs is all wrong.
I could have sold baby clothes at Gymboree in any mall in the country forever and been perfectly happy. Not that selling baby clothes is a bad job. This was before the recession, before any job was a good job. I started in 1995 and I was 17. I had just gotten a car and a license and I needed a job. When I thought about my job job, when I was a real adult, I knew I just wanted to write, but I also knew I was not the starving artist type. Even then, I knew.