The method of selection was unusual. The manager asked all who had worked for the factory to stand up; fifty-three rose. As he took the name of each girl and woman he asked why she had left, and if she preferred to return to the department in which she had previously worked. About half claimed to have left because they were needed at home, many had tried other work in hope of bettering themselves, and one had been discharged.
Instead of asking this girl the reason for her discharge, the manager handed her paper and pencil and requested her to write it out while he attended to us other applicants. Not knowing how to spell a word this girl, who sat next me, showed me what she had written—she had been sent away from the factory because the boss in the packing department said she needed a bath.
When my turn came I elected to be sent to the packing department, and for the single reason that I wished to see and know the boss who had enough courage to send home a worker who had neglected to wash her face and hands. This boss, Jane Ward, proved to be one of the most admirable characters I have ever known and one of the most capable of women. It took her about three minutes to show me how to pack crackers—I began with saltines.
The packing department filled one floor of the huge factory. It was perfectly lighted, heated, and ventilated. The women and girl workers wore all-enveloping blue cotton aprons with becoming Dutch caps to match. These caps covered the hair as completely as the aprons covered our dresses. The men, both workers and managers, wore coats and caps of white cotton. These garments were all supplied and laundered by the factory, fresh ones being distributed every other day.
Like folding circulars and addressing envelopes, packing crackers is monotonous though neither fatiguing nor disagreeable. Indeed, for the first few days I found it uncommonly pleasant—workers being allowed to eat all the crackers they wish providing they take none from the building. Several times during my first morning Jane Ward, when making her rounds, would fill my apron pockets with various varieties. And the girls working at the machines would make it convenient to pass me along a handful of fresh ones from the wide iron flats on which they came hot from the ovens.
During the first day I ate ravenously. By the afternoon of the second day it did not require much self-denial to pass a machine without sampling that bake. At the end of the week I was entirely content to allow Mrs. Wilkins and Alice to consume the bag of fresh broken crackers which I purchased at one-third the regular price and took home with me every evening.
The happy faces of my fellow workers were a continual source of pleasure to me. In no place where I had worked had I found such unmistakable evidence of general contentment. In spite of the fatigue resulting from my Atlantic City experience, I found myself even on my first day feeling more and more encouraged as the hours wore away. By lunch-time I had become almost light-hearted.
But when Jane asked a girl who worked at the same table with me to take me with her to the lunch-room conducted by the factory for its employees, I drew back. My memory of the lunch-room conducted by the department store for its employees was still too vivid. Never again would I be caught in such a trap! I thanked Jane, but when she had passed on I told the girl that it being my habit to take a walk in the fresh air during the lunch-hour, I would look for an eating-place on the street.
“I’ve never been able to stomach the food in these joints around here,” the girl replied. “And their prices is something fierce.”
On my inquiring if the food she got in the factory lunch-room was really eatable she very wisely advised me to come and see before putting on my hat and coat. Stepping inside the door of the restaurant I stared in amazement at the food, the helpings, and the service.