Workforce Development

I didn’t actually drive home. I drove to my mom’s bakery, Crumbcakes.
“Shopped till you drop, sweetheart?” mom asked with a smile as I entered the bakery. She was working the register, which meant they were understaffed.
“Mom, do you want me to throw on an apron and work the cashier?” I asked, wincing as my she accidently dropped the customer’s change on the counter.
“Of course not, Marissa. I have this covered.” she replied, “Dan is in the back, just so you know.” She winked.
Dan was two years older than me and went to SFCC too. My mom hired him during his junior year of high school when he moved from New York City to here with his family. He was half Mexican, half Italian and always had the best stories about his life in the city. Oh, and I was completely in love with him.
I went through the “Employees Only” curtain and Dan was there in his black Crumbcakes apron pulling some pumpkin spice muffins out of the oven. His dark hair was rumpled up and I could see his toned arms flexing from under his thin white t-shirt.
“Hey Miss Issa, long day?” Dan looked up. He was the only person who called me Issa. I thought it sounded too babyish, but his slight accent made it sound much cooler.
I sat down on the stainless steel counter and grabbed a frosting spreader and the cream cheese icing to go inside the muffins, “Jax had me out shopping for hours. Yes I know what you’re going to say. White girl problems.”
“I wasn’t going to say that!” he insisted, noticing me starting to fill the muffins, “If your mom sees you doing that she will kill us both.”
“Why is she so afraid of letting me work? I’m not a pansy.” I pouted.
“She just wants what is best for you.” Dan rolled his eyes.
“Bull.” I pointed out, “I’m going to get a job.” I proceeded to tell him about the boots at the thrift store.
“Ten dollars, Issa? Are you kidding me?” was his reaction.
“You know how I feel about spending other peoples’ money, Dan.” I replied.
Dan was the one person who actually got why I felt how I did about finances. His parents started charging him rent the minute he turned eighteen.
“She won’t let you get a job.”
“She doesn’t have a say. I’m eighteen.” I retorted. I wish my mom would stop babying me. I know she didn’t mean to, but most parents would drop dead if their daughter actually wanted to work.
“Why is she so against you working?” Dan asked.
“She doesn’t want people to see our family as struggling. She doesn’t want me to have to work.”
“She does know that one day you’re going to have to work to support yourself, doesn’t she?” he offered me a muffin.
“We live in an area where people our age don’t work because most of them are away at party schools snorting coke and passing out from liquor.” I rolled my eyes, “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to look for jobs tonight.”
“Okay, Issa.” He laughed, “By the way, I have this assignment for English on The Catcher in the Rye…”
“I’ll do it.” I replied. Dan would always ask me to do his English homework for him, mainly because he never read the assigned books, and I’ve read almost every book in the world. Well not every book, but most books.
“You’re the best, Issa.” Dan flashed me a grin.
I remember my freshman year when I first met Dan, I really wanted to go to the prom. Jax and I devised a plan to try and get him to ask me, but he ended up going with this girl Misty who asked him. I cried for days.
But now I was older, and had grown out of my awkwardly misshapen phase and was semi-attractive. It was only a matter of time until Dan realized that he wanted me to be his girlfriend, right?

I left the bakery at 5, and my mom got home three hours later. She brought home takeout from my favorite Chinese restaurant, but I wasn’t hungry.
After writing both Dan and my essays, I filled out some online applications to Bloomingdales, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble, and some restaurant called Olive and Canola. I had no work experience, which would probably work against me, but I was relentless.
Sometime during the aptitude test on the Barnes and Noble application, I really started thinking about why I was so persistent on getting a job. Was it solely because mom didn’t want me to? Was it a pride thing? I wasn’t sure why this had suddenly become so important to me.
Around midnight, my mom knocked on my bedroom door. “You’re still awake? It’s a school night.”
“Mom, I’m not twelve.” I slammed my laptop shut on the application and rolled my eyes. Was she really trying to impose a bedtime?
“I know you’re not,” she sighed, sitting down on the side on my bed, “Dan talked to me before I left today.”
“Yeah?” I gulped. I don’t know why I was nervous. Of course Dan talked to my mom! She was his boss.
“He was trying to get me to hire you for Crumbcakes.”
“Weird.” I looked down at the computer guiltily.
“You understand why I can’t hire you, right? I don’t want you to have to work for me.”
“You don’t want me to have to work, mom.” I muttered.
“Marissa,” mom sighed, “You know my family struggled financially when I was a teenager.”
Here we go. The I-Just-Want-A-Better-Life-For-You speech.
“I had to work two jobs and go to college at the same time just to get the education I needed.” she continued.
Right, to meet a husband who turned out to like guys and own a bakery, I found myself thinking. I instantly felt bad right after I thought it. My mom did have a bachelor of business from UCLA.
“Okay, well if I can’t work at Crumbcakes, I’m getting a job elsewhere.” I stubbornly remarked.
“I know you’re an adult and I can’t stop you.” She sighed, “But you know how I feel about it. I don’t want your grades to drop if you get overworked.”
“My grades won’t drop, mom. I promise.”
She stood up and gave me a kiss on the forehead, “I trust you. Goodnight, Marissa.”
“’Night mom.”