“The new fashions sold in departmentstores had thrown skilled American seamstresses out of work, you see.They’d been displaced by immigrant girls doing piecework for a pittancein terrible sweatshops. I refused to patronize a garment industrythat exploited its desperately poor workers so heartlessly.And if that wasn’t enough to keep me out of stores, there was this aswell: I was determined to resist that shameless sister of war propaganda—the advertising industry.”

“Maybe careers aren’t something you can really plan for. They just sort of happen, like brown eyes or flat feet. I took one of those career aptitude tests last year, and it showed that I should be a flight attendant or a seamstress. Not a fashion designer or anything, mind you, but a sweatshop worker. Apparently stewardesses and sweatshop workers and I enjoy a lot of the same interests and activities.”

“The patrons aren’t patronizing the store, and it’s not just the economy that’s keeping them out—it’s that nobody here likes to be patronized.”

“Do you work at the grocery store? Then why are you checking me out?”

“nothing like that. it had more to do with his face. which, although presentable, gave me the feeling that his every expression had been thrown together on the spur of the moment. like mismatched dishes set out in make-do fashion on a party table.”

“I’m a poor worker. The quality of work I do is excellent, but I make no money.”