Minding My Own Businesses

It was a weekday evening and I was sitting on the couch in our cramped living room, watching shadows lengthen across the wall. Finally, I heard the familiar jingle of keys in the lock at our apartment door. I ran to greet my mom.

“You’re finally home!” I said, and immediately started tugging at her coat sleeve. I was eager to show her my latest grade in a class where I’d been improving drastically. 

She managed a tired smile. “Yes, just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

Her head drooped with exhaustion. I still don’t know why this night was different from many similar nights that had come before, but for the first time, I looked at her and realized that if I was her, I would be exhausted too. 

She woke up every morning at 5 a.m. to prepare breakfast before heading to her first job, as a social worker at a school in Harlem. From there, she’d rush to her second job as a hospital cleaner. There she’d work until 6:30 or 7 p.m., sometimes later. She’d carried everything alone for the five years since my father had left. 

That evening, watching her collapse onto the couch, something shifted in me. I’d been too young before to notice her struggle—it was just the way things were. Now that I was 12, I realized I could start contributing to the household income, or at least start looking for ways to contribute. I decided to stop asking for things, stop complaining, and start helping however I could.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ 

A Scramble for Cash

From that point, everything around me became potential currency. I Googled “How to make money fast,” and found results like “How to credit card clone” and other instructions for running scams. I knew from talking to older kids that some of them bought their expensive shoes and clothing through methods like that. But there was no way I was doing anything that would add to my mother’s gray hairs.

I stayed up late researching even on school nights, my phone light shining across the top bunk while my sister slept on the bottom. Eventually I came upon a video about a family gathering recyclable bottles. They would insert them at a machine in the parking lot of a supermarket and get a receipt they could bring into the supermarket for money back.

Soon I was scouring the neighborhood, my eyes glued to bottles and cans thrown on the ground. Every five-cent deposit was a little weight off my mom’s shoulders—at least, that’s what I told myself as I hauled bags and bags of bottles to the supermarket machines. Recycling taught me the value of a dollar, but it also taught me about the ceiling of manual labor. I was trading hours for pennies. I knew my time and energy could pay off in bigger ways.

Around this time, my cousin was reading a book that caught my eye. It was called “Rich Dad Poor Dad,” by Robert Kiyosaki, and reading it changed my whole perspective. Kiyosaki, a successful businessman, recounts his upbringing and contrasting advice he received from two father figures: Poor Dad (his own father) and Rich Dad (his best friend’s father). 

He uses stories about these two fathers to point out the difference between an asset (something that puts money in your pocket) and a liability (something that takes money out of your pocket). Rich people make money by investing in projects and assets that generate income, Kiyosaki explained, so their money “works for them.” He also advised mastering your emotions to avoid bad financial decisions based on fear or greed, like gambling or buying lottery tickets.

Making Room for Money

As I read these pages, it felt like someone had turned the lights on in my head. I saw that my mindset was as cramped as our living room, cluttered with ideas of how to make money, all of which involved working for it rather thanletting it work for me. I realized that while my mother was a hero for her hard work, I didn’t want that kind of life—for myself or for her. I wanted to build systems that would generate income. I moved from wanting a job to wanting to own a business.

My life is a whirlwind of activity: from the sparkling inventory of my jewelry business, to the early morning hustle of baking, to the four afternoons a week I report to my mentoring job. 

I had friends who had tried reselling—turning small profits on items most people might overlook—and had done well with it. I had enough cash from bottle recycling to make a small investment in products that might sell for more money than I spent on them, so I did some research. It led me to moissanite, a gem that looks like a diamond. It’s an often-overlooked, cheaper option for those who don’t have money for a real diamond, and it actually shines better. Many people have never heard of it, so I saw a great opportunity to build a business around it.

Some international websites offered good prices on moissanite, so I bought items on those sites. I would take photos of the jewelry and offer the pieces on Facebook Marketplace for up to 50% more than I’d paid for them.

Finding customers was the most difficult part. I had to speak to people outside of my own circle, which was challenging at first, but I got used to it. Sometimes I even had interesting conversations with people I wouldn’t have encountered otherwise, like one customer who was trying to win his ex-girlfriend back with earrings he bought from me.
(I always met my customers in a public place for safety reasons.)  

There were also times when people told me they would be at the designated meeting spot in five minutes, only to stand me up. That was maddening, but I told myself it was one of the drawbacks that comes with running a business. I made three to five jewelry sales a month.

SYEP Became More Than a Paycheck

I was still in the early stages of my financial strategy, and I knew working for wages would build my funding base. When I heard about the city’s Summer Youth Employment Program (SYEP), I applied and was accepted. I was paid minimum wage for several weeks in the summer for a program that involved different activities, including work in an urban garden, college application preparation, and cooking classes.

The SYEP program paid off for me, not only in wages but in new leads and opportunities. One day, the person in charge of the culinary classes brought in some of their mother’s cookies, and we served them to staff who worked at the program. They tasted great, so I took a picture of the recipe and tried it at home. Early in the school year, I brought about a half a dozen to school to give my friends a taste test.

I got the reaction I was hoping for: “Orris, these are good!” Knowing the free samples went over so well told me I could make a profit selling them. I started baking on the weekends and bringing batches of 20-30 cookies to school during the week. At first I sold them for a dollar each, but I’ve been able to increase the price to $1.50 or $2. If I haven’t baked for a while, I’m able to sell them for more, because the demand is so high.

SYEP also led to another income stream. I had mentioned my interest in entrepreneurship at the program, and before the summer ended, my facilitators told me about an opportunity for the winter. In December I started a job four days a week after school, teaching kids ages 13 to 15 about financial literacy at a local youth resource center. It’s time-consuming, but exciting and worth it, because I’m doing something I like.

Meanwhile, I’m starting a clothing business. Using the money I’ve earned from my wage-based work, I’ll be commissioning specific designs on clothes. I’ll sell the pieces through Marketplace and take orders from classmates.

Co-Hero, and Architect of My Future

I am strategic about my future. By 20, I want to be able to hire at least one or two people to assist with my businesses. By 30, I plan to have moved into real estate or other investments, or a family business where the people I love most can all have a role and everyone can prosper. I want to retire early, not to stop working but to be able to work on my own terms. I imagine traveling the world, making memories with the people I love, and fostering other people’s success, not just my own.

My original goal was to contribute to the household expenses, and I do that. About 65% of what I earn I put back into the businesses, while I give about 35% to my mom to use as needed. At first I didn’t even tell her about the moissanite or the baking; I wanted to see how it would go first, in case she worried about my ability to keep up with schoolwork.  Eventually I told her, and she was supportive.

Today, the cramped living room doesn’t feel quite as small. I still see my mom get home late; she’s now working full eight-hour days as a hospital aide. But the rhythm of the house has changed. At 16, instead of spending hours just hanging out while my mom works, my life is a whirlwind of activity: from the sparkling inventory of my jewelry business, to the early morning hustle of baking, to the four afternoons a week I report to my mentoring job. 

My sister used to look past me the way younger siblings do, too caught up in her own world to pay attention. Lately she’s been asking questions—about the jewelry, the cookies, and how I run things. I don’t know if she wants to join in one day or if she’s just curious, but something about her paying attention matters to me. It feels like the story is spreading beyond just me and my mom.   

My mom has shifted too. I still see her head droop sometimes (and now I understand firsthand how she feels after hard work!), but she seems happier. Though she doesn’t say a lot about it, I can tell she sees what I’m doing. Sometimes I catch her telling someone on the phone about my businesses with a kind of quiet pride in her voice when she doesn’t even know I can hear. That means more than any sale.

While I am still her son, I have grown into a provider too. I spent a long time watching the door, waiting for a tired hero to walk through. Now I have become something of a co-hero, and I think of myself as an architect of the future. Every piece of jewelry sold and every batch of cookies made is a brick in the foundation of that future, a world where my mother’s only job is to finally catch her breath and enjoy her life. 

My efforts started out of love, but they have also changed me. I carry a sense of my own capability now, a quiet confidence in what I can build. That belongs to me, and it will carry me forward no matter what comes next.