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Like many moms, I had a short summer checklist for my teenage daughter: get off her phone, earn her own money, and learn what it’s like to show up for someone other than herself.
So when she landed a job at a tiny, always-busy cafe in our neighborhood, I was pleased. One goal was met. Little did I know, a few weeks later, I’d end up clocking in with her.
I wasn’t trying to get a job
It all started on a chaotic Saturday morning. I dropped my daughter off for her shift, still in my slippers, when the manager — panicked and without an apron — ran out the door and said, “Hey, any chance you can help run coffee orders for an hour? We’re slammed.” I blinked. Then I blinked again. And then I agreed to help.
At first, it felt a bit like volunteering at a school fundraiser. After all, I was just supposed to be there for one shift, until they got through the rush. But the following weekend, the once-again stressed manager grinned when he saw me and said, “If you’re dropping her off, you might as well clock in, too.” And so I did.
My daughter and I became teammates
That one emergency shift turned into a regular weekend gig. I wasn’t hired, I was absorbed. I learned how to work the register, run plates to tables, and clean more lipstick off glassware than I thought physically possible. More importantly, I found myself working shoulder-to-shoulder with my daughter in a way I never had before.
Suddenly, we were carpooling to shifts like co-workers. We wore matching aprons. We shared a cramped break room that smelled like cinnamon and bleach. We traded gossip about customers and snuck each other warm pastries during lulls. For a few hours each weekend, we weren’t just mom and daughter, we were teammates.
Over time, something strange and beautiful happened: We started talking more. Not the heavy, eye-roll-inducing “How’s your college essay coming?” kind of talk, but the kind that happens naturally over a shared task. We laughed at the same bad jokes, rolled our eyes in sync when someone ordered a quadruple shot oat milk latte five minutes before closing, and silently passed each other napkins during busy brunch rushes like we were in a well-rehearsed play.
Our bond grew in new ways
At work, I saw sides of my daughter that I’d never seen before. The way she was kind but firm with difficult customers, how quickly she moved under pressure, and how she quietly refilled the water jug before anyone asked. She was competent, calm, and funny and I’m not just saying that because I’m her mom. Watching her in action, I realized how much of her growing up I was still catching up to.
I think she saw me differently, too. Not as the voice nagging her to empty the dishwasher, but instead as someone who forgets things under pressure, mixes up almond milk with whole, and laughs at her own mistakes. In the cafe, we were both just people trying our best.
Of course, we still had our occasional tense moments like when I dropped an entire tray of iced lattes or when she mouthed “Seriously?” after I forgot a table number. But those became shared memories too, little inside jokes that stitched us even closer.
Working together didn’t just give us both some extra cash this summer. This job gave us something we didn’t know we needed: time in each other’s lives without the roles we usually play. No lectures. No slammed doors. Just two people, wiping down tables and figuring it out together.
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