In the summer of 2012, I was living in my first apartment on the East Side, and it was miserably hot. I was a broke teenager who could barely afford rent let alone air conditioning. My roommate and I spent a sweaty summer with our heads in the freezer or sitting on the floor in front of numerous fans.
Trips to the grocery store were true vacations, as were pointless drives around the city, with my car’s AC at full blast.
To further cool off, I took a job inside frigidly conditioned Mayfair Mall. Clerking at Victoria’s Secret wasn’t a launching pad to career success. But it was cool in there. And nothing else mattered.