Why I shudder when I hear “half-caf”
My first job was at a local coffee shop during the summer before my junior year of high school. My brother Taylor hooked me up with the job, and I worked there a solid three months making $5 an hour. I believe this was under the state minimum wage at the time, but I never bothered to tell my boss because I feared he would beat me with a loaf of banana bread. I may not have gotten rich that summer, but I did eat a lot of cookies. Which, in my book, is better than eating a lot of cash.
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