My Mother Refused to Pay My 13-Year-Old for Six Weeks of Work. Forty-Eight Hours Later, the Labor Board Knocked.

of shampoo and pencil lead, her sneakers two sizes too big because she’d begged me to buy them “to grow into.” She was looking at the ovens with awe, at the racks of bread cooling on shelves, at the glass display case full of pastries like it was a museum of miracles.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Fourteen an hour. You write down every minute she works. continue reading …