I had a Shopkins trading gig at six, a lemonade stand at eight, a slime business at ten, and babysitting at thirteen. But it wasn’t until the summer after my sophomore year that I got my first “real” job. I work behind the counter at a small fashion boutique in Wicker Park—a quaint spot that feels like a hidden gem, especially on a Sunday afternoon.
The idea of having a job began when I noticed upperclassmen at Parker balancing work with school and extracurriculars. Whether they worked at Alice & Wonder, Sushi-San, or Parker Summers, I saw them as so grown-up, managing schedules that required both responsibility and independence. Watching them interact with customers, handle money, and juggle their curricular lives made me realize that a job wasn’t just a means to earn money—it was an opportunity to gain experience and autonomy, as well as plug into a community outside of Parker, a luxury some of my peers might not fully appreciate.
On weekends, I clock in for shifts that range from steaming dresses to tagging jeans, assisting customers with genuine, personable conversations that feel less like transactions and more like connections. There are quick runs to the back to fetch a size or style, but more often than not, moments where I can simply sit back, breathe, and take in the serene atmosphere. On Sundays, the boutique hums with a quiet soundtrack, the soft whir of steamers fills the silence, and I find myself immersed in a calm that’s rare in my busy life.
Though these tasks might seem simple—mundane even—they offer a kind of peace that the outside world rarely provides. The world slows down, and I can focus on small details instead of being overwhelmed by the never-ending pace of school, assignments, and life. The customers who come and go are just enough of a distraction to make the hours fly by, but not so much that I feel rushed. It’s a quiet, almost meditative rhythm that allows me to exist in the moment without usual stresses weighing on my mind. Such shallow, seemingly passive hours remind me that even the most modest activities can have a great impact on our mental health. For a short time, I can switch gears to neutral, and trade in the demands of my school life for the simplicity of the transactional present.
These moments have taught me the importance of finding balance amid chaos, bringing me to realize just how much I’ll need such balance when I go to college. Whether it’s a job, a hobby, or something else entirely, I know I’ll seek out the peace that comes from having a retreat—both physically and mentally—where I can escape from the landscape and noise, and catch my breath.
My boutique job, though small, has deepened my appreciation for the moments of stillness that allow me to reflect, recharge, and regain focus. I encourage all teenagers to consider getting a job outside of school, not just for the money, but also for the valuable lessons gained— responsibility, self-sufficiency, and most importantly, mental well-being. It’s in these simpler, quieter moments of life that we can allow ourselves the space to learn how to value and manage our time, find solace for ourselves, and ultimately grow stronger in the process.
