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Like a debutante, she walked tall and struggled to balance her body over the kitten heels of a pair of black, sleek Prada shoes.

Ivory was a young girl. A teenager of shiny, and not quite straight, light brown, silky hair; of blue eyes and soft, peachy skin.

Dressed in trendy black,--the color of every season-- like a debutante, she came walking in from the shop next door. One of many boutiques residing in a conglomerate of wealth and snobbery better know as Pena Shops.

Ivory walked up to the back of the plush store with a firm, but gracious stance, and with an air of determination.

At the beginning her voice was confident. Forming an attitude rehearsed for a grand entrance to what could be her break, her first true gig in a boutique famous for upscale--to-die-for-- stylish women's clothing.

And so the confident 17 year old debutante said, "Where can I get an application to work here?"

The manager, turning her neck around in a way that struck me as funny, demanded to know her age.

"How old are you?" "Are you 18?" Asked the forty-something woman behind the cashier counter.

In a sheepish voice, Ivory answered," Seventeen," adding that lazy lilting whine at the end of the word; a way of talking of the local girls, favored by teenagers as a sign of popularity with their friends at school but Ivory couldn't help to use it now because she was trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You're not 18." "No," confirmed Ivory in a hurried voice almost blending into one with the woman's utterance .

In the same breath, the woman--of whom Ivory was now beginning to realize was the manager-- said,"If you're not 18, you can't work here".

'But it's a clothing store for God's sake,... not a bar,' Ivory thought to herself.

"Come back when you turn eighteen," the manager said.

In what seemed to last an eternity Ivory's eyes scanned from cashier to cashier as strangers skillfully swiped credit cards into terminals to pay for the trendy selection of the season. Ivory felt rejection and humiliation all wrapped into one.

She felt the rush. First, an escalating state of shock, then shame, and later anger.

Ivory managed to get herself together and, like a debutante, walked out again, poised and tall.

My turn:

If you've ever been denied access to the work force as a young person, you probably know the sinking feeling of confusion after being told no . That you either are under the age requirement or don't have a track record of related experience to get the job. Fortunately, there's the day that some employer takes a chance to break through this dichotomy. One with sense and sensibilities.
 

Your Turn:

This is where you, as a reader, weigh-in on the issues and have a good time. Make your opinion and experiences count.

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