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How Breaking My Cycle Almost Broke Me, Employment Edition, Pt. 1: A Past of Prostitution and McDonalds



I had a desire to make money as far back as I can remember. In fact, if I had known I would be working so much I probably would not have started so early. I can’t blame it on my mom even though we were homeless, I didn’t realize how poor I was until later on in life.  Living house to house, or in a motel on the track was fun in the beginning.  Besides, she made sure I always ate and had clean clothes even if she had to sell herself and wash my clothes in the tub, she made it happen.  I believe I was between the ages of 9-10 when I held my first unofficial job at the local 7-11 right next to the Brighton apartments on Rainier in the Southend of Seattle.  It was owned by a Black couple who probably noticed that we would come in and steal food (Aliyah, Tan, and I) and instead of sending us away, they hired us to put prices on the items we had been stealing… The irony.  On top of giving us food for the day they would send us home with money in our pocket. Not a lot but enough to play video games with and have bus fare. I remember they were really nice and believers in God; I believe the husband was a Pastor. Fast forward to about 13 when I held my first official job at Taco Time.  I definitely looked 13 but when you have a will, a way, and a mom who was determined to try to redirect my trajectory to a life of prostitution, we made it happen.  My mom erased the year on my birth certificate, and I took it to Evergreen H.S., and retyped it in my typewriting class and wah-lah I was 3 years older when I went to the DMV to get my first identification card.  When I would run away, I would still go to work or go on job interviews, after I had quit the previous jobs because something in my life had happened.  I never let the chaos disrupt me from making money, if I could help it (were talking major crash out when I didn’t have money) even if the chaos was a part of me making money.  I had so many jobs I can’t even remember them all.  Kind of like the men in my past (paid and un-paid, I honestly forget them). 

I can honestly say that my employment history complimented my life in prostitution. I definitely knew how to placate a man to avoid getting hurt further due to my exploitation.  Furthermore, I could discuss anything, and if I didn’t know about it, I would learn about it. I was polite and used to dealing with customers as I had worked at jobs like Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, Microsoft, and Seattle Times, just to name a few.  When I first worked for an escort service, I was told to think about all the things I would be able to buy for my baby, and to treat them like they were a customer, which is what they were just the goods were me versus a product or a service from a company.  When I started dancing my customer service was what I relied on.  My ability to talk and connect with the customers had me sounding like a bona-fide pro because it damn show wasn’t my dancing.  The level of nervousness cannot be measured, as I would sweat and shake. I was very uncomfortable with my body and being stared at on or off the stage.  The only way I could combat my nervousness was to drink and smoke.  My dancing had the customers saying things like “you don’t belong here,” or “this isn’t for you.” Once I was loaded enough to not shake or freeze on stage I would dance, dance.  I’m not talking about the seductive, sultry tease one might imagine in a strip club.  I was doing the running man; the cabbage patch kid, and I never knew how to truly pop it until my dancing days were well over.   I think I got more money out of pity than anything and of course it was usually stolen by the other dancers who would watch me get loaded and steal money or attempt to set me up some other kind of way.  The customers were right, I was not made for dancing in a strip club, I belonged in someone’s office answering someone’s phone anywhere but there.  I really don’t think I had a choice in that matter at first. One might say that I had one later when I decided to do it on my own, with the exception of when I was forced, coerced, etc., (better said, a lack of choices and examples).  After having witnessed my mom in the lifestyle and others around her; After being exploited as a kid; and later on turning a date with one of my mom’s tricks when she wasn’t home after he decided to stop by the house when I was a teenager (Sneaky Pete was what my mom called him, and he was sneaky alright, snuck right into her house when she wasn’t home and propositioned her daughter).  I was destined to follow in her footsteps, I could’ve said no to him, but I wanted the money and by watching my mom and living life I learned to get them before they got me, or did life teach me that? I don’t remember.

Either way, I graduated High School with an emphasis in Jack-N-The-Box’s menu and no idea that I could be successful in college without a scholarship or money.  In contrast to the majority of my homies, I entered the workforce and kept a job.  I kept a job even when I was hitting licks and no one even knew it.  My mom eventually found out; however, I suspect she had always known long before I started dancing.  She didn’t put me down for it, she just wanted me to be safe, and she wanted me to provide for my children because she would have to watch them.  As long as I was coming back with money so that we could live and I wasn’t paying no nigga, she was good.  I just wish that I had known that coming out about what I went through and even put myself through, would come back to haunt me. I didn’t think about how admitting that I was something that most people detest would make it even harder for me to obtain employment or be used against me when I stood for values and so on. No matter what I was doing (in the Life or in the workforce) I had niggas trying to ruin my income because they couldn’t control me. If it wasn’t some nigga showing up to the club where I worked at, calling them to get them to fire me; they were reaching out to the client driving them away, not coming back with my car etc.  Even when I didn’t have a nigga blatantly blocking my money, I had professional women and men (sometimes at the welfare office) turning down their nose and opportunities for advancement using my past against me if I spoke out about things, or wanna-be clients in positions of power standing in the way as gate keepers to my success, misconceiving my past with my future and purpose.  Once you’re in the Life, you’re in the Life; I’m convinced you will never live past that label (in the broader scheme of things) Even after being in the life I experienced prejudice for identifying as a survivor both in seeking resources that would support me and in employment.  I can’t verify that, that was the reason, but I’ve spoken to other survivors and those that don’t identify at all who stated that this agency would not hire you if you identified as a survivor.” Even if you didn’t agree with one of the speeches or presentations, I have given or the film highlighting the impacts on Black women and girls, for prevention and education purposes, to openly look down on me for things I could not control or to get in the way of me making better choices by obtaining honest employment is heartless at Best.  And let’s not forget that I’m Black and on the bottom of the “Whore-archy,” where I end up experiencing discrimination on both sides; and the criminalization because of the melanin in my skin which increases my vulnerability and access to services that can change my life…. It’s not just people bent on keeping me in my place, it’s my criminal background and the debts that I have as a result of me being in the life and being exploited that follows me. Even with the help of an agency my past still comes up.  I had to practically beg to get my current case management, after they removed me from the waitlist instead of putting me at the bottom like I was told they would, when I was unable to make it back to Texas to get case management, I was told I had to start all the way over, which resulted in months with no help.  Only when I contacted the Director after being stonewalled, and explained to her that my issue was not with their waiting list policy like the screener had said but with how I was handled in that process. I was told I was put where I should have been based on the time I reached out; and had it not been for me having some clue of what was available to me I wouldn’t have been considered for the application process to have my debt reviewed to be removed.  I had to ask my case manager to give a warm handoff, otherwise she would have just had me reach out to them on my own.  I had to explain that a warm handoff is what was needed and she agreed to do “2 of them only and I would have to introduce myself to the rest of them.”  Realizing that this meant that this would be an upward battle, I continued to focus on employment, the only way to take care of myself, the only way to survive….

Taking a double take at the screen on my phone I was surprised that McDonalds had responded with an interview even if it was the AI virtual agent Olivia.  In Portland I couldn’t get a job at any of the fast-food places (including McDonalds, no one would hire me but that’s a different story) and it seemed to have followed me here as well up until now.  I chose the soonest interview, which was the next day and since McDonald’s was just next door to the 3rd sober living house I was living at, at the time, that would be right up my alley.  I arrived 10 minutes early and sat at one of the tables to the side of the cash register.  Once it was time I approached the woman at the cash register and asked to speak with the manager stating that I had an appointment.  I noticed they were super busy when I first walked in but they the one’s that scheduled the interview at that time, so they must have someone available I thought.  The lady seemed agitated when I stated that I was there for an interview and not a Big Mac.  “I will go get her,” she said as she turned away and begin to bag an order.  Remaining patient, I took a different seat this time right in front of the cash register so I could see behind the counter, and they could see that I was waiting.  Everyone was super busy and by everyone, I mean the 2 to 3 Black people sprinkled amongst the multiple Hispanic women rushing to pack orders speaking to one another in Spanish and occasionally glancing my direction.  After about 20 minutes I walked back to the counter to the left of the cash register and waved to get someone’s attention.  “Hi can you let the Manager know that I have an interview at 2?  “I just told her, she didn’t come out?” “No,” I stated as I looked at my watch I had been waiting well over 30 minutes.  “I will let her know again, were just really busy,” she said as she headed towards the back of the kitchen.

Glancing at my clock well after an hour later, I approached the counter attempting to get a response one more time; I smiled and waved at a short Hispanic woman who had been giving orders mostly in Spanish to the other employees.  Stopping and turning towards me she gave me a look of confusion followed by “Yo no hablo ingles.”  Smiling inside I responded, “Es tu jefe aqui, yo tengo una appointamente?” Quickly turning from me, she laughed as she begins to speak to the other employees way faster than I could hear over the loud noise of the kitchen.  Never turning back to acknowledge me, I felt defeated as I resigned to the fact that although I had asked multiple people for the manager or the interviewer, they weren’t coming.  A few days later I followed up by calling the store and even spoke to 2 different men, on 2 separate days, who both got my name and placed me on hold, without ever returning to the call. Fast forward to a month or so later I receive a call asking me to come back in for a 2nd time.  This time there was a lady sitting in the lobby waiting, so when I asked an employee for the manager, she eagerly pointed her out.  Sitting down across from her I was ready to discuss my shift manager’s skills, and she seemed responsive and receptive.  Giving me the job after asking a few more questions, she went on to describe what the position would entail stating that “I would be able to be trained in all the positions before being a shift manager,” and that I would be able to “work at least 40 hours, possibly more.”  Leaving the interview, I remembered that I had forgotten to ask about the pay.  Quickly I googled what shift managers make in Fort Worth, and it said, “between $17-$21 dollars an hour.”  After texting her and asking her she responded via text with a simple response “13 dollars.”  That would be her text M.O., very short precise answers if at all, as she eventually stopped responding all together.  When I asked where else or whom else I could call, I wasn’t given an answer and she eventually stated that she wasn’t receiving any of my text messages, she gave me her home number too, but nonetheless she stopped responding.  My first day was good.  I knew I would have to be very careful due to my environmental sensitivity, so I was ready with 2 masks in hand.  I was told I would be working alongside a gentleman for training, and I would start at the first drive-thru window.  I listened for about an hour and was told I could start by taking the order over the headset.  I was given a headset that was missing a cushion which made it very uncomfortable.  I asked the Hispanic male, (we’ll call him Jose) for a new one and he said, “there were no more.”  Pushing through for the sake of work, I begin to take orders and as soon as I begin to do well at taking orders a bunch of co-workers begin to walk past and have side conversations with Jose while he was training me.  Even the maintenance guy took this opportunity to get a ladder and open up the ceiling right adjacent to where I was standing followed by 2 to 3 other employees standing by him.  There were so many people either talking to Jose who was on the other side of me or standing around the guy in the ceiling, I wondered who was cooking the food or taking orders?  Then I began to hear a lot of banging coming from the kitchen.  I guess they were trying to break up the meat, which made sense since it was kept in a freezer, but it almost felt excessive. This was right around the time I heard a voice over the headset “take her off drive thru,” or something to that affect and right away Jose was grabbing my headset and sending me to the front.  Bang, bang, bang, I heard as I walked past the area designated for making hamburgers etc., to the front of the kitchen. This would be common if I walked by that area, everyone working in the kitchen would begin to make lots of noise.  That’s if they knew I was there because there would be times when I would pop up and they would be so busy they wouldn’t see me and there would be no excessive banging.  There would also be a lot of times when I would ask for orders specifically mine, where they would say they didn’t speak English or “yo no hablo Espanol.”

It was evident that my co-workers, mainly in the kitchen, did not like me.  They didn’t outright say it, but their actions spoke louder than their Spanish words.  Know matter how I tried to speak Spanish, they still acted like they couldn’t understand me.  I knew it was intentional especially when I would be complimented by Spanish speakers on how well I spoke Spanish at the cash register.  When I would ask for my food while on break, I would be given really old meat or burnt buns and way too much sauce.  There would be times I would get physically ill after eating or drinking food that they had made.  I thought maybe it was from the exposure to the fryer as it would often smell as if they were burning the food intentionally when I was there.  I eventually caught one of them reaching way into the back of the heated drawer where they kept the meat to make my sandwich.  Asking for another one that was freshly cooked; “necesito una pienza de pollo recien hecha por favor?” Again, they acted like they couldn’t understand my broken Spanish causing me to say it multiple times.  I started asking for my food then going to the side where I could watch them and then my manager told me I couldn’t watch them make my food.  Like I actually got in trouble for watching them make my food. “You need to go to the front and wait,” she yelled over the noise of the kitchen.  I just stopped eating their food and stuck with the drinks but after getting nothing but coffee grinds in my coffee, and catching my assistant manager about to put bleach or putting more bleach into my drink that was the last straw.  Of course they would try to give me old fries as well, but I started making my own and if I couldn’t make it because we were too busy, I would go hungry.  Around my 2nd day I met my assistant manager who got so close to me I could feel his breath on my face as he told me, “Wait til you work my shift, I do things different.” Stepping back for breathing room I asked him what he meant by this, smiling he said we just “keep things moving.”  I responded, “that won’t be a problem, I’ve worked in fast food before.”  I would routinely get ignored by the manager in training while he would complement others.  I would politely say to him that “it was nice to give everyone encouragement” and his response would be more like “I don’t have to, I don’t work at this store I’m just training.”  All this before I was on the schedule all the way.  By that I mean I would have to show up to work even though I wasn’t on the schedule.  Often getting yelled at for being there and not being on the schedule by that same short lady who now could understand English.  I remember one time specifically when I got there the manager told me she “didn’t know if I could work because there were already too many people there.”  I explained to her that I had traveled a long way and she just completely ignored me and went to the front of the kitchen.  Staying back in the back room I thought it not a good idea to follow her when Jose came up to me and said that the manager had said that “I was being aggressive.”  Shocked I was like “how by asking if I could work on a day that she told me to come to work?” Smiling, he shrugged his shoulders and I just passed it off as a miscommunication; eventually the manager came back and said I could “work 3 hours.”  I did notice that while they had begin to put me solely in the front mainly responsible for the front cash register, and keeping the bathroom, the main lobby and the children’s play area clean; the rest of the employees got to rotate taking orders, working the cash register, bagging and running the food, even sometimes even in the kitchen etc. (except for the kitchen they worked the kitchen only) I paid it no mine at first, but I begin to hurt myself from constant cleaning every day.  When I said something to my manager, she hinted to the fact that the other employees “didn’t want me back there with them.”  And when I would be allowed to prepare food at least bag orders, someone would intentionally not be on the fryers, or someone forgot to put ice in the soda machine causing everything to get backed up, or they would start putting the sandwiches on the other side (I didn’t even know that existed) so I would be waiting and asking the kitchen for food that was already prepared only for it to be out of sight. It was always an emergency if I was in the kitchen otherwise if I was in the lobby or at the cash register things would go smoothly.

One day while working under my assistant manager I ended up burning myself on the burner that I didn’t know even heated up until I burnt myself. Asking my manager for a band-aid, he first said he didn’t have one” then I guess after digging another manager came with a small bag of Band-Aids.  My assistant manager hinted to me that I was “being a baby” for asking for a band-aid.  Ignoring him I continued to ask for one as I worked the next day, however I was told “there were no more band-aids and to use some butter.” This went on for days, with no band-aid until I went and bought my own band-aids. The behavior wasn’t just my manager or assistant manager, or shift managers it was everybody.  I was told by one of the other shift managers that “I was too nice” and she “would show me how not to be so nice.”  I politely declined that offer and that was the last time I was able to work the drive-thru.  One day sore from all the cleaning, I was asked to run some food to a customer waiting outside.  They had made it a habit (although they weren’t supposed to) to say they didn’t know where the customer was waiting so I would have to go to every car and ask them was such and such their order.  It was really hot so I said I would take one order at a time to prevent having the hot Dallas wind knock over the tray as I went from car to car seeing if the food, I had was their correct food.  As I was going out the door I heard someone say, “she’s slow, why she ain’t taking all the food at once?’  After finding the car and going back to get the second order and finding that car as well. Things had slowed down enough where I was able to address the front of the kitchen “who said I was slow?”  Immediately, my assistant manager said it was him. Controlling my tears I asked him to not “call me that.” Leaning on the front drive-thru soda machine he smiled nervously and doubled down saying “I meant not smart, slow bus, retarded“ and some other not so nice adjectives to describe me.  I eventually let him have the last word as all the other employees begin to laugh.  I honestly didn’t think it was him that originally said it but he definitely followed suit and so did others especially after that.  I was routinely bumped into when there was plenty of space, I was waived off or ignored when I asked shift managers and others for advice.  I was even told that I was “from New York” by a co-worker who was adamant that I was lying to her when I said I was from Seattle.  My assistant manager would constantly reference “a ho, or that ho’s gonna be gone soon.” Things like that.  I had another manager who flat out told me I was lying about receiving money from a customer because the cash register was saying that the order was still there, but it was a similar order and when I tried to explain that it wasn’t the same order he made me go get the receipt from the customer which resulted in me digging in the garbage for it. He didn’t even apologize.

And of course, I was constantly texting my manager and now the owner as I eventually got tired and did what the sign said to in the back of the break room. I was scared to take it beyond that as my assistant manager would have multiple family members up at the job.  I just was hoping things would get better if I worked harder.  But nope it didn’t and still no answer, and no response from the higher ups.  I just left multiple messages about what I was experiencing.  I continued to ask about an employee number and was never given one.  “They are working opening another store, you think they are gonna just stop what they are doing for you?” I was like damn my manager don’t care no one cares, I thought. So I continued to try to ask for certain days on paper because I couldn’t log into the system without an employee number. I continued to be low-key verbally abused by the assistant manager who seemed to get a sick kick out of it, often saying he was the “devil.”  This time I had to tell on him in front of everybody because she wouldn’t make him stop if I left a message.  I had to ignore it all, I had to keep working even if I now had a sharp pain that went from my back all the way down my right leg.  It was crippling.  I would try to go to the gym and get in the hot tub to try to alleviate the symptoms, but it wasn’t enough.  It got to the point where I let the manager and assistant manager that I couldn’t do mopping and sweeping I was in pain and I needed to heal.  I was looked at and ignored.  The manager even knocked over a drink while she was sitting with the manager-in-training and called me over to come clean it.  When I re-explained to her that I was still in pain she just looked at me.  I went from 35 hours to 6 or 7 hours a week.  I was devastated, I couldn’t live off of that.  Remembering I had put in for cashier at a place around the corner I went there after getting off of work and wouldn’t you know it they were opening the very next week.  I took the opportunity that I had with Texas Fish an Chicken and made it work.  However I was encouraged to quit McDonalds and work for him full-time.  He said he wanted to look out for mee and would give me a car because he wanted me to be there early and ready to work.  He went on to say that I could work as many hours as I wanted and again not to worry because he just needed to do a few minor repairs and I could have the car.  This place was super busy but I was able to maintain.  When I say I did everything in that store except cook, I did.  I had to ask him to bring someone else to help me (I would later on regret that) but it was a lot.  There would be times when I would help close to 200 customers throughout a single day by myself.  My manager at Texas Fish and Chicken kept pushing for me to quit McDonalds and after being called “slow” again by another shift manager there, I left early and told them I was taking some time off until I could get a car.  I mean I really wanted the job, the ability to train and be a shift manager but not the treatment, not the overworking by making me basically just clean.  It was so bad that customers would see how I was being bullied and say something to the manager and it would never get back to me, there would never be a change of behavior.  I remember seeing my assistant manager from McDonalds come into Texas Fish and chicken grill and he just looked at me with his hands crossed and walked back out.  I told my manager at Texas Fish and Chicken that, that was my manager and he said laughingly, “the way he looked he didn’t come in here for food he came in here to see you.”  I agreed, I really just wanted to put everything behind me; I really just wanted to take care of myself and get on my feet.  Even though I had experienced repeated workplace comments and inconsistent application of company policy, along with formally documenting concerns; all known and seen by people in power and still no one did anything, no one except God that is….

Colossians 3:23-24 (KJV)
“And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance; for ye serve the Lord Christ.




References:

Polaris Project: National Survivor Study
National Survivor Study – Polaris

Polaris Project: NSS Findings, Full Reports, and Issue Briefs
National Survivor Study Findings and Resources – Polaris

Counter Trafficking Data Collaborative
Polaris Data Overview | CTDC

Consumer Financial Protection Bureau
https://www.consumerfinance.gov/rules-policy/final-rules/prohibition-on-inclusion-of-adverse-information-in-consumer-reporting-in-the-case-of-trafficking/ – Google Search

Consumer Financial Protection Guide
I’m a victim of trafficking. How can I block items from my credit report that are the result of trafficking? | Consumer Financial Protection Bureau

Debt Bondage Repair Act- SharedHope
What is the Debt Bondage Repair Act?

Bible; King James Version
Colossians 3:23-24