Job 1—MILKING MADNESS
I slammed my phone down on the couch, groaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The final whistle had just blown on the match, and I sat there, staring at the screen like it owed me money. My favorite team had won, and the announcer was already shouting about the next match in New York. New York. And me? I couldn’t even scrape enough together to pay for a bus across town, let alone a ticket overseas.
“f**k this,” I muttered, dragging my hand through my hair. “Why’s everything in life about money? Why can’t passion pay the bills?”
I pulled my laptop closer, opening tabs I didn’t even want to see. Job boards, classified ads, quick gigs. One headline caught my eye:
**“Farm help needed. Milking cows. Few hours. Good pay.”**
I laughed out loud. Me? On a farm? St
