The Vitamin Pyramid Scheme

When your mom says 'get a summer job,' she doesn't usually mean accidentally joining a multilevel marketing scheme. But here I was, standing in front of the Galleria, wearing a too-bright polo shirt, watching Tyler—my manager who looked like he hadn't slept since 2019—demonstrate the life-changing power of our 'pyramid of wellness' to a skeptical sixth grader.

'The secret's in the stacking,' Tyler whispered to me, as if sharing ancient wisdom. 'Each vitamin supports the next. It's not a pyramid scheme, Maya. It's a pyramid of OPPORTUNITY.'

Sure, bro. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

The only reason I hadn't quit yet was Fox—aka Lily Chen, who worked at the kiosk next to ours selling overpriced phone cases. She had this sharp clever energy that made me feel like I'd known her forever, even though we'd only spoken, like, three times. She caught me watching her and winked. I immediately pretended to be fascinated by a bottle of gummy vitamins.

'Hey Vitamin Girl,' she said, drifting over during a slow period. 'Your boss looks like he's about to cry into that protein powder.'

'He says the pyramid chooses us,' I said, because it was either that or acknowledge that this job was actually a nightmare. 'I'm basically an entrepreneur now.'

Fox laughed, and it was this sound that made my chest feel weirdly tight. 'My cousin got sucked into one of those last year. He's still trying to sell me essential oils for my chakras.' She leaned closer. 'You should bail. This place gives me bad vibes.'

The air conditioning hummed. Somewhere, a baby screamed. And in that moment, I realized I had to choose between the embarrassment of quitting my first job after three days or the slow spiritual death of asking strangers if they wanted to optimize their cellular function with our 'bioactive bear formula'—yes, that was real, no I couldn't make this up.

'I'll bear the humiliation,' I said, grabbing my backpack from under the counter. 'My dignity is worth more than seven-fifty an hour.'

Fox's grin was brilliant. 'I'll help you write your resignation letter. I'm really good at burning bridges professionally.'

Water spilled from the fountain behind us, rhythmic and fake, and I thought about how some things look perfect from a distance but are actually just recirculating the same old nonsense. Tyler caught my eye from across the store and gave me a thumbs-up. I almost felt bad.

Almost.

'Let's do this,' I said, and Fox's hand brushed mine as we walked out, leaving the pyramid, the vitamins, and the absolute disaster of my first job behind us.