Read Online The Girls of Atomic City by Denise Kiernan - Free Book Online
Authors: Denise Kiernan
Ads: Link
room had a single window, and when Celia looked out she could see the Castle. Communal bathrooms were down the hall. Unpacking was a breeze, as Celia had not brought much with her. A few changes of clothes and makeup, of course, but only the basics: some pancake, a little lipstick, her eyebrow pencil, and powdered blush. The I. Miller shoes went straight into the closet, where they would stay.
The housemother was strict, and curfew was 10 PM unless you had permission otherwise or had shift work. Celia thought the cost for the rooms was reasonable. She and Maybelle would each pay $10 a month to share the space. Downstairs in the lobby, everyone had their own mail slot for letters and other messages. She had promised her mother and her brothers that she would write. She had yet to figure out how they were supposed to write her back.
★ ★ ★
After hearing so much about the Clinton Engineer Works, Toni was now seeing it firsthand. The guards with guns checked that she did, in fact, have an interview, and let her pass. The construction, the people—it amazed her that all this activity was right down the road fromClinton. There was one last pearl to be plucked from the Clinch: The world was her oyster.
Guards directed Toni to the administration building for her interview. The Project was recruiting as heavily as ever, with offices in Knoxville for the different contractors who ran various plants and administrative operations. Toni found it oddly quiet when she entered the Castle, a contrast to the buzz outside. She wondered if she was the only one being interviewed for the job. That would be a stroke of luck. Toni had taken bookkeeping courses and had become, she thought, a darn good typist. At the very least she had to be able to get a job as a secretary. She didn’t want a factory job if she could avoid it.
A Mr. LeSieur greeted her with a welcoming smile that put her at ease. But moments later, it became clear that Mr. LeSieur was not going to be interviewing her. Instead, he walked her down the hall and into the office of Mr. Diamond, whom Toni immediately pegged as a big ol’ Yankee. Toni had never met one up close before, but she had heard plenty about them. It wasn’t unusual for northern buyers to be spotted in Clinton haggling with pearlers on Market Street.
Mr. Diamond had a massive, booming voice and a belly to match. Right off, Toni could tell that there would be no introductory niceties, no how-do-you-dos or where-are-you-froms with Mr. Diamond, that southern sort of conversational two-step that was second nature to her, and only polite.
Mr. Diamond got right down to it.
“Do you take dictation?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
Mr. Diamond shoved a pad at Toni and began to speak.
It wasn’t like anything Toni had ever heard before. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body, up to her freshly scrubbed ears, tensed in concentration as she listened so hard she thought she would sprain something. She felt totally lost, like she was riding some sort of syllabic roller coaster, trudging blindly on an endless scavenger hunt in search of the letter R.
Goodness, Lord, what on earth is that man saying? Is he speaking English?
Mr. Diamond finished and looked up at Toni. Toni looked downat her pad. The transcription looked more like an unfinished game of hangman—just about every third word was a gaping blank space. Toni had no choice. She showed Mr. Diamond what she had done.
“No, no, no!” he barked. “Tran-SCRIBE it!”
Toni said nothing, but Mr. Diamond’s tone was wearing on her. Though she didn’t understand everything he said, his exasperated snarl communicated volumes.
“Well,” he continued in a huff. “Can you at least type?”
“Yes, sir,” Toni answered. “ And I can take dictation, too. I couldn’t understand a word you said!”
“I didn’t understand a word you said, either!”
That was that. Interview over. Mr. Diamond called out to Mr. LeSieur: “Come get Miss Pee-tuhs
The housemother was strict, and curfew was 10 PM unless you had permission otherwise or had shift work. Celia thought the cost for the rooms was reasonable. She and Maybelle would each pay $10 a month to share the space. Downstairs in the lobby, everyone had their own mail slot for letters and other messages. She had promised her mother and her brothers that she would write. She had yet to figure out how they were supposed to write her back.
★ ★ ★
After hearing so much about the Clinton Engineer Works, Toni was now seeing it firsthand. The guards with guns checked that she did, in fact, have an interview, and let her pass. The construction, the people—it amazed her that all this activity was right down the road fromClinton. There was one last pearl to be plucked from the Clinch: The world was her oyster.
Guards directed Toni to the administration building for her interview. The Project was recruiting as heavily as ever, with offices in Knoxville for the different contractors who ran various plants and administrative operations. Toni found it oddly quiet when she entered the Castle, a contrast to the buzz outside. She wondered if she was the only one being interviewed for the job. That would be a stroke of luck. Toni had taken bookkeeping courses and had become, she thought, a darn good typist. At the very least she had to be able to get a job as a secretary. She didn’t want a factory job if she could avoid it.
A Mr. LeSieur greeted her with a welcoming smile that put her at ease. But moments later, it became clear that Mr. LeSieur was not going to be interviewing her. Instead, he walked her down the hall and into the office of Mr. Diamond, whom Toni immediately pegged as a big ol’ Yankee. Toni had never met one up close before, but she had heard plenty about them. It wasn’t unusual for northern buyers to be spotted in Clinton haggling with pearlers on Market Street.
Mr. Diamond had a massive, booming voice and a belly to match. Right off, Toni could tell that there would be no introductory niceties, no how-do-you-dos or where-are-you-froms with Mr. Diamond, that southern sort of conversational two-step that was second nature to her, and only polite.
Mr. Diamond got right down to it.
“Do you take dictation?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
Mr. Diamond shoved a pad at Toni and began to speak.
It wasn’t like anything Toni had ever heard before. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body, up to her freshly scrubbed ears, tensed in concentration as she listened so hard she thought she would sprain something. She felt totally lost, like she was riding some sort of syllabic roller coaster, trudging blindly on an endless scavenger hunt in search of the letter R.
Goodness, Lord, what on earth is that man saying? Is he speaking English?
Mr. Diamond finished and looked up at Toni. Toni looked downat her pad. The transcription looked more like an unfinished game of hangman—just about every third word was a gaping blank space. Toni had no choice. She showed Mr. Diamond what she had done.
“No, no, no!” he barked. “Tran-SCRIBE it!”
Toni said nothing, but Mr. Diamond’s tone was wearing on her. Though she didn’t understand everything he said, his exasperated snarl communicated volumes.
“Well,” he continued in a huff. “Can you at least type?”
“Yes, sir,” Toni answered. “ And I can take dictation, too. I couldn’t understand a word you said!”
“I didn’t understand a word you said, either!”
That was that. Interview over. Mr. Diamond called out to Mr. LeSieur: “Come get Miss Pee-tuhs
Similar Books
