Four Years in the Underbrush: Adventures as a Working Woman in New YorkAnonymous
History
Four Years in the Underbrush: Adventures as a Working Woman in New York
Anonymous
Women employees -- New York (State) -- New York
“I went where I was sent,” I told him. “The head waiter stationed me in
the dining-room. Since the hotel required me to sign a contract I shall
require the hotel to live up to that contract.”
Being accustomed to handling uneducated women this man fancied that all
he had to do to intimidate me was to talk loud. When he paused in his
shouting I repeated my first statement—the hotel must live up to its
contract with me. After a second bout at loud talking the stenographer
came to his assistance. She assured me “as a friend” that I had best
take the amount offered me, as it was all that I would get. Besides I
had no copy of the contract I claimed to have signed.
She gasped on being assured that I did have a second copy of the
contract—the copy Mrs. Wilkins had sent for. Taking another tack, this
girl reminded me that the difference between sixteen and thirteen was
too small to dispute about. Whereupon I inquired why the hotel was
unwilling to pay it.
Declaring that nothing could be done until my contract was found, both
the stenographer and the paymaster went back to their work. After
waiting thirty minutes by the clock I again asked for my wages. The
paymaster informed me that my contract had not been found and that I
would have to wait till they had time to look for it. At the end of the
second thirty minutes, and seeing that no effort was being made to get
the contract, I remarked that perhaps it might be just as well for me to
call on the clerk of the district court while waiting.
Simple as that statement may seem, it had a surprising effect on the
paymaster. Hurrying to the door of his enclosure he urged me to enter,
sit down, and wait for the manager. The manager, he assured me, kept all
contracts locked in a safe of which he alone knew the combination. On my
persisting he followed me along the passageway, begging me “as a friend”
to have a little patience. Another odd feature of the performance was
that the housekeeper of the Belgrave, though she had held the position
for more than ten years, could not direct me to the city hall.
Once on the streets every passer-by was able to point out the city hall
and tell me in just which corner I would find the clerk of court. This
man was or pretended to be as ignorant of Sea Foam as the housekeeper
had been of his whereabouts. When I first stated my case he had some
difficulty in recalling that there was such a hotel in the place—it is
one of the best known thereabouts and less than five blocks from his
office. His negro man of all work was so well informed that he was able
not only to locate it exactly but to give the names of the stockholders.
The clerk of court, when warning me against “invoking the law” for such
a small sum, informed me:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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