On my first day of work at the neighborhood ice cream shop, my boss lined up cups on the counter, handed me a scooper, and set a timer.
“A perfect scoop takes under 24 seconds,” he said.
Ice cream splattered as I tried to keep up. It humbled me, but I kept showing up. The pay is $16.50 an hour plus tips, and I — a 31-year-old with years of experience in news and tech — expected to be working alongside teenagers.
Instead, when I started working at Lady Moo Moo in Bed-Stuy, I found myself surrounded by people who, like me, had already built careers and are now navigating an unpredictable job market. Some had been laid off just as I had. Others, like my colleague who is a sex educator and public health advocate, lost funding in their fields. A few are juggling multiple part-time roles to stay afloat.
We’re all piecing together income however we can, showing up where steady work exists. We have responsibilities and ambition. We’re trying and adapting. There is zero shame in it.
From leader to laid off
My life used to look very different. At 23, I was the U.S. news lead for ByteDance’s first U.S. content product, TopBuzz. By 25, I oversaw content strategy at SmartNews, a Japanese news aggregation startup that once felt like the future of media.
I still remember the 10th anniversary celebration. The company flew the U.S. team and several colleagues from Japan to San Francisco and put us up in beautiful hotel suites. The CEO opened a five-figure bottle of whiskey in front of everyone. The future felt bright. A few months later, most of the U.S. team, including me, was laid off. Talk about whiplash.
In 2024, Meta offered me a job that was listed in New York, which has always felt like home. After I accepted, the role shifted to San Francisco. I was hopeful about this next step in my career when I moved west. But no one on my team worked in my building, I had five different managers, and I was laid off again after only a year.
The toughest job market
I moved back to New York with part of my severance, assuming my experience, especially with Meta, would help me find work quickly. Instead, I stepped into the most brutal job search I’ve ever experienced. When I logged onto LinkedIn, my feed was full of people going through the same thing.
After a long interview process at Yahoo, I didn’t get the full-time role I’d applied for. But a month later, the hiring manager offered me a part-time weekend contract. I accepted immediately. It meant waking up at 5 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays and going without benefits, but I loved the work and wanted to stay in the industry.
I figured a job at the ice cream shop in my neighborhood, which is open every year from April through November, might help fill the gap.
A sweet side gig
I never expected to get a scooping job in my 30s. I took it to make some extra money until I regained my footing. But I ended up finding so much more in it.
At Lady Moo Moo, the line wraps around the block even on rainy days. On Halloween, a little girl dressed up as the shop’s golden gumball. The basement is filled with gifts, drawings, thank you notes and even a paper mache cow a customer made.
People come in after long workdays, school pickups, and difficult conversations, or simply because they want a moment of sweetness. I saw couples on dates, friends catching up, and neighbors stopping by because the shop is part of their daily rhythm.
Every shift, I met people who never imagined they would be picking up part-time work: artists, teachers, nonprofit workers, tech employees, museum curators, and neighbors doing their best to make life work in a difficult economy. No one was ashamed. Everyone showed up for themselves and for each other.
During our final week of the season, the owner took the entire staff out to dinner. I’ve worked full-time jobs with far larger budgets that never expressed appreciation like that. Walking home afterward, my arms sore from 24-second scooping drills, I didn’t feel “behind” in my career. I felt grounded and grateful. I felt like I belonged somewhere again.
Do I want another full-time role? Of course. I miss health insurance. I miss buying fresh groceries. I miss sleeping past dawn. But this experience gave me something I didn’t realize I needed — and when the shop opens its second, year-round location in early 2026, I’ll keep scooping while I continue my job search as long as my schedule allows it.
In a moment when the job market felt chaotic and stability seemed elusive, I found steadiness in a community that held me up. It reminded me that life is about more than titles and résumés.
It’s about the places you go and the people you meet who show you that you’re not alone — the ones who scoop beside you and turn a side gig at a small neighborhood shop into something that feels like home.
Kaila Curry is a journalist, senior content manager, audience engagement and social media strategist and, most recently, an ice cream scooper. She has held editorial and content leadership roles at ByteDance, Meta, and SmartNews, and is currently seeking a full-time role.
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