![]() ![]() ![]() Now she finds herself seeking work at the same pay level as these former inmates and qualifies for food stamps, too. They ask questions, they want to engage-and the more you talk and expose your knowledge, they learn to accept and respect you."Ĭaitlin Grey is aware of the irony of her situation: Her degree and social work experience focus on helping ex-convicts transition from prison to employment and apply for government assistance. "But the people who come in here are very interested in beer and in what we do. He says the experience taught him that hard work and deep knowledge of a subject lead to success.Īnd people who may sniff at him as just another underemployed hipster? "If I worked at any other bar in the city, I'd likely encounter that," he says. That led to a record label and an annual heavy metal festival in Sweden, Scorched Tundra, that Mr. In high school, he started an online publication reviewing bands that became the Web's second-largest site for heavy metal content in the early 2000s. Front's optimism is his track record in turning passions, whether beer or death metal, into profitable businesses. Front serves as marketing manager of Local Option's growing stable of house-branded beers, working to place the brews at more than 250 bars and stores in Illinois, plus locations in 25 other states and as far away as Western Europe.īut perhaps the biggest factor in Mr. ![]() Incongruously located on a leafy side street in Lincoln Park, the heavy metal-blasting dive routinely is heralded as one of the best beer bars in the country. Front, who grew up on the North Side, tends bar at Local Option. He has tended bar ever since, and he's pretty pumped with how things have turned out. "You can't do that with kids."Īlexi Front graduated with a history degree four years ago. "I have a friend working at a massive law firm who spent three nights a week sleeping under her desk," she says. Though she expects to end up in a relatively low-paying job at a nonprofit when she completes her program in 2017, she thinks that would be better than law when it comes to work-life balance. It's very demoralizing to be 29 and go back to what I was making in college." "The hard work doesn't bother me," she says. And her husband makes a good salary as a senior graphic designer. Erickson says she grew up in a financially stressed home and is used to eating out of crockpots. She usually makes the four-hour drive back to Chicago two weekends a month. ![]() She also temporarily bade adieu to her husband and their Wrigleyville condo to live in a tiny faculty apartment near Toledo, Ohio, during the school year. Erickson quit to pursue a doctorate at Bowling Green State University. After five years, she was making nearly $60,000 as a paralegal. Instead of applying to law school, she went back for a master's degree in history and began commuting twice a week, 90 minutes each way, to teach night classes in Western civilization at a community college in Rockford-all while keeping her day job at a Loop law firm. Her dream of becoming an immigration lawyer fell apart after she got a bachelor's degree from Loyola University Chicago in 2007, began working at a law firm and realized the career would be all about pushing paper. Now "I go to the bank and I'm excited."Īpril Erickson always has hustled, but she doesn't have much to show for it. "I used to live paycheck to paycheck," she says. The upside: Because she lives so frugally, she saved enough money to take out a loan and buy a 2013 Chevrolet Cruz. They also do without Internet and cable service. Living with four men isn't exactly ideal, but it means Ms. Unable to afford a one-bedroom rental in the city, she moved in with her boyfriend, a recent Robert Morris University grad who shares a Bridgeport house with three other guys. Meanwhile, the chances that she'll be promoted into management at the bar are solid. Do I go back to school or do I keep doing what I'm doing? It's so hard to get that piece of paper, and it doesn't necessarily guarantee anything." "She and her friends are all (waiting) tables or they're nannies. "My sister's 22 she went to Illinois State," Ms. Though she plans to finish school once she's more financially settled, she also sees that a degree doesn't guarantee much. Carlson became so stretched that she no longer had time for classes at the College of DuPage. But between nannying for up to 10 families at a time, bartending at Miller's Ale House in west suburban Lombard and putting in another few hours a week as an office assistant at a drug treatment center her mother co-owns, Ms. Carlson always knew she'd be on her own for college. One of three daughters raised by a single mother in Forest Park, Ms. Then again, she doesn't have a college degree or a career path. ![]()
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