sister carrie

Chapter 8 (2)

Chapter 4 Expenses in Fantasy: Facts Are Laughed at (2)
He led the way through dark corridors lined with boxes, smelling of new leather shoes.Walked to the iron gate, which is the main part of the factory.Inside was a large room with a low ceiling, the only sound was the whirring of machinery, and men in white shirts and gingham overalls were busy at work.She followed him timidly through the crackling machinery, her eyes only looking ahead, her face flushed slightly.In a far corner, they boarded the elevator and reached the sixth floor.Monsieur Blanc beckoned a foreman to come out from the rows of machines and benches.

"That's the girl," he said, turning to Carrie, "you go with her," and he walked back.Carrie followed her new superior to a small corner desk which he used for his work.

"You've never done any kind of work like that before, have you?" he asked her, looking stern.

"No, sir," she replied.

It seemed to bother him that he had to worry about such a helper.But he took her name down and led her to a row of women workers sitting on stools in front of crackling machines.He patted the shoulder of a worker who was using a machine to punch holes in the shoe.

"You," he said, "show her what you do. When she learns, come to me."

The maid rose at once and found a place for Carrie.

"It's not hard to do," she said, bending over, "just grab this, clip it to the hole punch, and start the machine."

She (doing what she said), put a piece of leather on the little hole puncher and clamped it. It was the leather that made the right half of the man's shoe.Then push up the small steel drill on the side of the machine.The steel drill beat to make a hole, and with a sharp clicking sound, it rolled off a small round piece of leather on the upper of the shoe, leaving a hole for tying the shoelace.After the female worker saw it a few times, she was allowed to do it alone.Seeing that it was not badly done, she walked away.

The leather was passed from the woman working on the machine to her right, and passed to the one on her left.Carrie understood at once that a normal pace must be maintained, or the work would pile upon her, and all the work below would be delayed.She had no time to look around, but hurried to her work.The girls on either side of her understood her difficulty, and always tried to help her, doing it as stealthily and slowly as possible.

She went on and on at the job for a while, trying to find some relief from her fears in the monotony of the movement and the mechanical operation of the machine.Time passed minute by minute, and she felt that the light in the room was not very bright.It smelled strongly of new cowhide, but she didn't care.She could feel the eyes of the other workers looking at her, and she felt uneasy, afraid that she might not work fast enough.

Once she put the leather a little wrongly, and she was touching the little hole puncher.At this time, a big hand appeared in front of her, fastening the hole punching frame for her, it was the foreman.Her heart was beating so hard that she could hardly go on with her work.

"Get your engine on," he said, "get your engine on. Don't leave the line waiting."

This sentence reminded her that she immediately started to work nervously, almost out of breath, until the shadow moved away from behind her.In this way, she took a breath.

As the morning wore on, the room began to heat up.She felt the need for some fresh air and water, but she dared not move.The stool she was sitting on had no backrest and no footrest, and she began to feel uncomfortable.After a while, she felt that her back began to ache a little.She twisted her body, changed her position a little, but not for long.She is starting to feel tired.

"Stand up, why don't you stand for a while?" said the female worker on the right without introducing herself. "They don't care."

Carrie looked at her gratefully. "I think I must," she said.

She stood up from the stool and worked like this for a while, but it was more difficult in this position.Her neck and shoulders ached as she bent over.

There was something rough about the place for her.She didn't want to look around, but she could hear someone talking occasionally over the crackling of the machine.She could sense a thing or two out of the corner of her eye, too.

"Did you see Harley last night?" said the woman worker to her left to the man next to her.

"No."

"You should see that tie on him. Drink! He's a sight to behold."

"Hush-shh," said the other woman, bending over her work.The first person to speak fell silent after being greeted, and immediately put on a serious face.The foreman strolled past and took a good look at the two.As soon as he walked away, the conversation resumed.

"Listen," said the woman on her left, "what do you think he said?"

"I do not know."

"He said he saw us last night at the Martin's with Eddie Harris."

"No!" They both giggled.

A young man with brown hair, whose hair should have been cut long ago, with a basket of leather parts under his left arm, clinging to his stomach, slowly walked over from the machine.Approaching Carrie, he put out his right hand and squeezed under the shoulder of a working girl.

"Oh, let me go," she cried angrily, "Bastard."

He just smiled back.

"Little liar!" he replied when she looked at him.There was nothing gentlemanly about him.

Carrie could not sit still afterwards.Her feet were so tired that she just wanted to stand up and stretch.Was noon forever to be missed? It seemed as though she had been at work all day.She wasn't hungry at all, she just felt weak, and her eyes were tired, and she kept staring at one place when drilling.Seeing her fidgeting, the female worker on the right sympathized with her.She was too absorbed--in fact, what she did didn't need to be so hard, so hard.But there was nothing to do, the pile of shoe uppers piled up more and more.First her wrists ached, then her fingers ached, and at last she was nothing but a numb, groaning mass of muscles, fixed in one place, doing rigid movements, more and more tedious, until finally, People gag.Just as she was thinking about whether this tension would end or not, a dull bell sounded from the elevator, and she finally got off work.Suddenly there was a sound of walking and talking.All the women workers immediately got off their stools and hurried away from the next room, where the men workers passed from some department on the right.There was a sound of rolling wheels that became fainter and fainter, and finally died away.There seemed to be an audible silence here, so that even ordinary sounds sounded a little strange.

Carrie got up and looked for her lunch box.She was stiff, dizzy, and very thirsty.Walking to a small room separated by wooden boards to store clothes bags and lunch boxes, she met the foreman, who was staring at her.

"Well," he said, "can you do it?"

"I think it will work." She replied respectfully.

"Yeah," he replied.Because I can't think of anything else to say.He kept going.

If under better material conditions, this kind of work would not be so bad. The new socialism that constantly advocates improving labor conditions has not been accepted by manufacturers.

The place stinks of oily machinery mixed with new leather—plus the musty smell of the building, even in winter.The floor was littered with rubbish despite being cleaned every night.There is also no equipment to make the workers more comfortable.The idea at the time was that the less you pay for them, the better, the harder the work, the lower the salary, the better, so that you can make some money.The kind of treads we know, the swivel chair, the maids' pantry, the free clean aprons, the curling irons, a decent dressing room, none of it even occurred to me. A dirty place is also an annoying place.The whole atmosphere is one of slovenliness.

Carrie drank a glass of water from a bucket in the corner, then sat down to eat near her.The other girls sat down by the window on the stools of the men who had gone away.She saw that the female workers were everywhere in pairs or in groups. She was shy and embarrassed to touch them, so she went back to her own machine, sat down on her stool, and put her hand on her lap. The lunch box opened.She sat there, listening to the gossip and criticism around her.Mostly nonsense, full of slang that was in vogue at the time.A few male workers in the room and a female worker far away exchanged joking words.

"Hey, Katie," said one of them to a working girl waltzing a few paces below the window, "will you come with me to the ballroom?"

"Be careful, Katie," cried another, "you'll mess up the back of your hair."
"Stop talking nonsense, little liar," was her only answer.

Carrie cringed instinctively at the jokes of this kind between male and female workmen.She was not used to this sort of thing, and found it a little crude and indecent.She was terrified that the young men there would say such things to her--these men looked absurd by comparison with Drouet.She uses the eyes of ordinary women to distinguish people of all colors from their clothing.A suit of dress indicates status, kindness, and nobility; while a suit of overalls and a short jacket indicate bad character and are dismissive.

She was delighted when the short half hour passed and the wheels started turning again.Although tired, she did not attract attention.But another young man came down the aisle and poked her casually in the ribs with his thumb, and her illusions were shattered.She turned, sparks in her eyes, but he had moved away, only turning around once and grinning.She couldn't help but want to cry out.

The female worker next to her noticed her thoughts. "Don't take it to heart," she said, "he's too thick-skinned."

Carrie said nothing, but bent over her work.She just felt that such a life was unbearable.The work she had in mind was nothing like that.For a whole long afternoon, she thought about the scene of the city outside, the majestic appearance, the crowd, and the beautiful buildings.Columbia, the beauty of her home, came back to her.By three o'clock she thought it must be six o'clock.At four o'clock, it seems that people have forgotten the time and asked everyone to work overtime.The foreman had become a veritable devil, and was always stalking around, keeping her tied to work.The conversations she heard nearby could only make her determined not to make friends with any of them.When six o'clock came she hurried out, her arms aching and her limbs stiff from sitting still.

She took her hat and was walking down the hall when a young mechanic, impressed by her beauty, ventured to tease her.

"Hello, girl," he called, "wait a moment, I'll walk with you."

It was said directly in her direction.She knew what it meant, but she didn't look back.

In the crowded elevator, another dusty young male worker raised eyebrows at her, trying to get her attention.

Another young male worker was waiting outside on the sidewalk, grinning at her as she passed.

"Come with me, won't you?" he cried dissolutely.

Carrie's heart sank, and she turned her face to the west.Walking around the corner, through the large bright glass window, she saw the small writing desk where she was looking for a job.Pedestrians were crowded, hurried and noisy.She felt a breather just because she was finally free.She felt humiliated compared with the well-dressed girls who passed by.She felt that her experience should have been better.She was really unconvinced.

(End of this chapter)