For the past 18 months, Fidel Castro has searched for a job driving vans or small trucks in Hialeah. He has a clean driving record, and his resumé includes more than a decade behind the wheel. “I know every alley in this city,” Castro declares, his upper lip quivering indignantly. “I don’t need a GPS. I am a GPS.”
But he’s rarely called back for interviews, even when friends refer him to potential employers. So he continues delivering flowers for a wholesaler 20 hours a week. The 47-year-old struggles to make his $350 monthly rent for the apartment he shares with two other former balseros.