Dean liked that this Welcome Center sounded so helpful, but the one month deadline worried him. "We're in 1960's America, right? Who's going to hire an underage black kid from London?" Still, he reckoned he was probably better off in the 'marketable skills' department than some of his pureblood counterparts. He imagined Draco Malfoy trying to find a muggle job and snickered a little bit. It would serve him right, ending up unemployed and homeless on the streets of the biggest muggle city around.
The thought occurred to Dean that this might be the perfect opportunity to pursue a career in illustrating or graphic design like he'd dreamed of as a kid. That is to say, in between dreaming of being a famous footballer and finding out he was a wizard. Worst comes to worst, though, he could probably go back to the old summer standby of paper boy. That's something they'd let him do, regardless of his race or age.
When the subject of money came up, Dean frowned. His hands, which were shoved inside his jeans pockets for warmth, closed around the few coins there (5 pounds 80p, plus 9 sickles, if he recalled correctly). "Yeah, not much in the way of cash at the moment... going to need to find a job sooner rather than later."