The mall’s managers go to extraordinary lengths to hire and keep workers. The latest step: bringing in a nonprofit agency to assist workers struggling at the margins, including those who are homeless or nearly so.
MINNEAPOLIS — Managers at the Mall of America can often tell when an employee doesn’t have a good place to sleep.
Sometimes a worker shows up hours before his shift, a sign he doesn’t have somewhere else to go. Other times, an employee might not make it in because she stayed somewhere too far away or didn’t have enough money for bus fare. Or perhaps an employee opens up after being asked about a wrinkled shirt.
“They come in and say, ‘Oh, I just slept in a car last night,’ ” said Natasha Holt, manager of the mall’s amusement park.
The Mall of America is a world-famous symbol of American abundance, with 4-plus miles of stores, rides and spectacles. But it’s having trouble finding people to work in today’s tight labor market, leading its management to go to extraordinary lengths to hire and keep workers.
Most Read Business Stories
- Millions of stimulus payments were mailed as prepaid debit cards. Some say they look like scams.
- Seattle home prices still climbing at second-fastest rate in nation
- Cutting off stimulus checks to Americans earning over $75,000 could be wise, new data suggests
- Sorority accused of making UW students pay housing for empty Greek Row house during pandemic
- New delay in 777X swells massive Boeing loss in 2020, the largest in its history
The latest step: bringing in a nonprofit agency to assist workers struggling at the margins, including those who are homeless or nearly so.
“There are folks who have some challenges getting work and maintaining work,” said Sue Amundson, the mall’s human-resources director. “How can we as an organization really support them?”
Keeping every employee is critical. Just the mall, not counting its stores, has 200 unfilled jobs, about one-sixth of its 1,200 positions. The amusement park, Nickelodeon Universe, is so short-staffed that mall executives sometimes pitch in by running rides. The mall’s nearly 500 retailers have hundreds of other openings.
Across the state and Upper Midwest, managers in offices, restaurants, factories and farms are having trouble filling jobs. Minnesota’s unemployment rate, at 3.6 percent, has been better than the nation’s for several years.
In the last year, the Mall of America bumped its base pay to $9.50 for part-time workers, 50 cents above the state’s minimum wage. Ride operators now make $11 an hour.
Even so, Amundson, who has been with the mall for 12 years, said this is the hardest its managers and recruiters have ever had to work to fill positions.
“Every year up until last year, we were able to fill our positions for the summer season,” Amundson said. “Last year was the first year we didn’t. That was the light bulb for me.”
In recent weeks, the mall’s leaders reached out to the Step-Up program of the city of Minneapolis and AchieveMpls, the nonprofit organization tied to the Minneapolis Public Schools, to attract more teenagers for summer jobs. And it has forged a partnership with Oasis for Youth, an area nonprofit that works with homeless youth, an effort mall executives think can become a national model for retaining employees and creating stability for them.
Since she came on board as Oasis’ case manager at the mall two months ago, Jess Nelson has been sitting in on orientation programs for new employees. She has been walking around Nickelodeon Universe and stopping by the daily briefings before shifts start to introduce herself and hand her card to workers.
She stresses that her office is a confidential, safe space that is separate from the mall’s human-resources office.
“If you know anybody who needs help, my office is right downstairs,” she told a concessions-stand operator as she was making the rounds, raising her voice to compete with the roar of nearby rides.
In the cabinets of her office, Nelson keeps bus tokens, gift cards for meals and groceries, and toiletries such as toothpaste and body wash for anyone who may need them.
Janette Smrcka, the mall’s IT director, was at church last year when she heard a discussion about youth homelessness. It drove her to find a way the mall could help. She reached out to Oasis.
The timing was fortuitous. Nicole Mills had just come on board as the first executive director of the nearly 6-year-old organization, which operates a drop-in center for homeless youth at a church.
“I had daydreamed about how to connect to the mall,” Mills said. “Then one day they literally called and they were like, ‘Hey, we’re the mall. Is there anything we can do?’ ”
In the last year, Oasis has found more young people are turning to its services, aimed at 16- to 24-year-olds who live or work in Bloomington, the suburb where the mall is located, and nearby communities. Since 2013, the number of visits to Oasis has increased 74 percent. Last year, it served 215 people.
A number of Oasis’ clients have worked at the mall. And there have been a handful of instances in which Oasis workers intervened to help save their jobs.
For the young adults it works with, finding a place to crash for the night can consume a lot of time and energy.
Adijatu Lafiaji, a 20-year-old community-college student, started showing up at Oasis’ drop-in center a few months ago. She already had a job at the mall at Forever 21, a trendy apparel store for young women.
But a frequent source of tension was trying to arrange her work schedule around the cousin she was living with. The cousin often gave her rides to and from the bus stop or the mall. At one point, she had to cut back her workdays.
When other issues emerged, Lafiaji decided to move out of her cousin’s home.
“Things just weren’t going well anymore, so I was not comfortable living there,” she said, vaguely mentioning a big fight.
Oasis helped her find an apartment in Bloomington and will help pay the rent for the first several months until she gets on her feet. Still, she needed another part-time job to pay the bills on her own.
At Oasis’ drop-in center, where she stocks up on toiletries and underwear, Nelson told Lafiaji about other job openings at the mall.
They brushed up her résumé and she applied to be a ride operator. Within the span of a week, Lafiaji landed that job and moved into the apartment.
Her new home is still sparse. But her face lights up when she talks about it.
“I love it,” she said. “It’s nice, it’s really quiet. Peaceful.”
And the bus stop is just down the street — and the mall a 15-minute ride away.