![Rafael Taminez Romero in Kennett Square, Penn.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/8abdf13/2147483647/strip/true/crop/140x159+0+0/resize/880x999!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fnews%2Fspecials%2Flow_wage%2Fimages%2F030816.mushroom1-e2c85233261e7428a85eaae4784388e72c52355a.jpg)
![Racks of mushrooms under a greenhouse.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/4d28743/2147483647/strip/true/crop/140x121+0+0/resize/880x761!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fnews%2Fspecials%2Flow_wage%2Fimages%2F030816.mushroom2-7c077985a532d1d9b576573e509eec8994c0b5f8.jpg)
A mushroom picker does his or her work in the cold, moist air of a modern mushroom farm. Rafael Taminez Romero, a 19-year-old Mexican immigrant from the town of Puebla, is one of those workers, earning a living working at a mushroom farm in Kennet Square, Penn.
He tells NPR's Noah Adams he's happy with his job, which pays $6.56 an hour. But it's tough work -- the day starts at 5 a.m., and by the next morning a mushroom Romero picked could be in an omelet in a New York City restaurant.
He says he endures the hard work to send money home to his family. Some paydays, it's $150, sent via Western Union. Other times, there's nothing to send. He says he dreamed of going to school, "but I am forced to do what I am doing." Still, he says, "I don't envy anyone."
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