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.