After getting on the carriage, Jenny fished out a five-cent coin and handed it to the conductor, then found a corner seat with her suitcase.
She looked around; it was past rush hour, and there were only a few women on board.
About half an hour later, the carriage had arrived in Lower Manhattan. Jenny was thinking about where to stay tonight. Renting a place on such short notice was definitely out of the question, so she'd have to find a hotel for the night.
If she got good news tomorrow—she sighed at the thought—then she'd look for a long-term place.
In the cheap hotels and weekly rentals of the downtown area, a spot in a shared dormitory cost ten cents a night, and a narrow single room without windows cost twenty-five cents a night.
But the main clientele in those neighborhoods were laborers, and it wasn't safe for Jenny.
In hotels with better neighborhood security, a room with a window cost a full fifty cents a night, with shared bathroom and kitchen.
Similar single rooms weren't cheap for long-term rentals either.
That was precisely why Jenny had rather shamelessly stayed in her uncle's attic for the past half-month.
Her aunt collected thirty cents a day from her for accommodation.
Breakfast and dinner at her uncle's cost another fifteen cents a day, so at least three dollars a week.
A collator's weekly salary was five dollars, with a two-dollar bonus for perfect attendance, totaling twenty-two dollars a month at most.
Jenny had worked for half a month and received ten dollars total. Accommodation and meals had taken up two-thirds of that.
Poor thing, she only took the crowded public carriage for commuting—five cents each way, a dime round trip.
For lunch, she always bought the cheapest five-cent meal, occasionally splurging on a piece of hard tallow soap to wash her clothes.
After all that, out of her ten-dollar salary for half a month, she had one dollar left.
Jenny did the math on the carriage and ended up laughing at herself. At least she'd worked hard for those two weeks.
If not for that, others wouldn't find it so easy to control her, thinking she would surely face reality.
Jenny shook her head.
When it came to wages, in the entire New York State publishing industry, Dawling was the largest and paid the highest, even for menial jobs. Working there was her best option.
Compared to the printing factory, the office jobs available to women had many requirements.
The highest-paid female employees in the whole company were the stenographers in the editorial departments.
They started at sixty dollars a month, and some even had company dormitories.
Working as a stenographer in a hot publication or a high-influence editorial department came with different benefits.
In earlier years, some female stenographers, due to their strong work abilities, were promoted to secretaries and even became assistant editors.
However, that assistant editor couldn't advance further, so she left Dawling, took a small team to a publishing company in a small town, married the boss there, and became an editor-in-chief.
Ever since her first day at Dawling, Jenny had envied the female typists in the office.
When she occasionally walked past the main entrance after work and saw them chatting freely about where to go for plays, dinner, or shopping, she felt a deep longing.
She felt those typists had truly integrated into New York, living in New York, while she was just surviving.
Most importantly, typists had the chance to be promoted to secretary or assistant editor!
She hadn't forgotten the regret of dying right after her promotion in her previous life.
But unfortunately, almost all typists gradually worked their way up from clerks, filling vacancies as they appeared—that was Dawling's tradition.
A clerk was a general assistant needed in every editorial department, doing all kinds of odd jobs.
To interview for a clerk position at Dawling, one had to have studied stenography at a women's school and hold a diploma.
Alternatively, you could buy the position or get an internal recommendation letter from someone in the company.
Jenny had five siblings. There was no spare money for tuition, and she had no connections. All she had was her previous life's editorial experience.
The only option now was to try her luck with Frank, who was assembling a team for a new publication.
Every position in a mature publication was filled, like a peg in a hole.
If not for the major shake-up that required hiring many clerks at once, she might never have had a chance to fight for herself.
Thinking this, Jenny was pulled back to reality by the conductor's reminder.
She looked out the window; they were approaching Midtown.
The heavy snow blanketed the city in soft white. The dim yellow light of gas lamps spilled onto the crystal snow. As night fell, Manhattan grew livelier.
The carriage slowly stopped, but Jenny didn't get off.
Soon the carriage moved again, winding through streets and alleys, finally stopping near a bustling area close to Fifth Avenue.
Jenny got off with her suitcase. Right ahead was a fairly decent-looking hotel.
The surrounding streets were brightly lit, with mounted police patrolling at all times.
The wind wrapped around her as she carried her suitcase forward.
She decided to splurge, spending her remaining dollar on a room with a bathroom, heating pipes, and a window with a view.
Here she could lie down and sleep peacefully without worrying about someone breaking in at night or encountering something in a shared bathroom.
Back in her room, Jenny took a bath first to revive her frozen body, then changed into comfortable pajamas.