The article shares a personal narrative detailing a troubling job experience at a mushroom farm when the author was just 15 years old. After being picked up and taken to a remote location, the author and their friend were separated and placed in dark grow rooms with minimal light or safety. Descriptions of the daunting atmosphere highlight the discomfort and danger of the situation. The fear intensified after they exited and found themselves lost on a gravel road, relying on the kindness of a questionable stranger for a ride, reflecting on the risks faced in such jobs for young people.
I was 15 years old when a friend and I got a job picking mushrooms at a mushroom farm. We were picked up at 6:00 a.m. from a local plaza and driven to the farm two hours away. Somehow, we were separated and put in different grow rooms (which felt more like horse stalls). There were no windows nor electricity for light. There were eight 'pickers' per room; only two wore headlamps. It was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. We were told we could take our first break in two hours, and then the door was shut tightly. I did my job quietly, feeling around the manure for mushrooms in complete darkness amongst six strange men. It felt like eight hours had passed when the door finally opened two hours later.
I quickly found my friend, and we booked it out of there only to realize we had no idea where we were! All we could see was a long gravel road and fields. We stuck our thumbs out and finally got picked up by some guy who looked like he was living out of his car. We coulda have been murdered!
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