every day
this coming year--"Sure." This was the first year the vacation with
pay had been granted. I thought of Tessie at the candy factory--Tessie
who had been sent speedily home by the pop-eyed man at the door
because she was ten minutes late, due to taking her husband to the
hospital. Verily, there is no "factory atmosphere" about the
bleachery, compared with New York standards. The men, they say, take
the whole matter of punctuality and attendance more seriously than the
women.

The second day I began my diary with, "A bleachery job is no job at
all." That again was by contrast. Also, those first two days were the
only two, until the last week, that we did not work overtime at our
table. When orders pour in and the mangle works every hour and extra
folders are put on and the bundles of pillow cases pile up, then, no
matter with what speed you manage to slap on those labels, you never
seem to catch up. Night after night Nancy, Mamie, Margaret, and I
worked overtime. From 7.15 in the morning till 6 at night is a long
day. Then for sure and certain we did get tired, and indeed by the end
of a week of it we were well-nigh "tuckered out." But the more orders
that came in the more profits to be divided fifty-fifty between
Capital and Labor.

(The Handbook on the Partnership Plan reads: "Our profit sharing is a
50-50 proposition. The market wage of our industry is paid to Labor
and a minimum of 6% is paid to Capital. After these have been paid,
together with regular operating expenses, depreciation reserve, taxes,
etc., and after the Sinking Funds have been provided for by setting
aside 15% of the next profits for Labor and 15% for Capital, the
remaining net profits are divided 50% for Capital and 50% for the
operatives, and the latter sum divided in proportion to the amount of
each one's pay for the period.... A true partnership must jointly
provide for losses as well as for the sharing of profits.... These
Sinking Funds are intended to guarantee Capital its minimum return of
6% during periods when this shall not have been carried, and to
provide unemployment insurance for the operatives, paying half wages
when the company is unable to furnish employment.")

In the candy factory back in New York, Ida, the forelady, would holler
from the end of the room, "My Gawd! girls, work faster!" At the
bleachery, when extra effort was needed, the forelady passed a letter
around our table from a New York firm, saying their order