Eva Smiths diary

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Eva Smiths diary

I awoke this morning with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had to see my boss, Mr Birling, in his office today because I helped to organise a strike, which ended yesterday. This was because I felt our wages, twenty-two and six, were too low o some of the girls and I organised a strike after Mr Birling refused to increase or wages to twenty-five shillings. I dressed slowly and left the pokey little room I lived in and walked to work at Birling and co. As I walked into the factory I put my coat on the hook, tied an apron round my waist and began work.

Around half an hour later I heard my name called by Mr Birlings secretary and nervously moved towards the stairs where the other girls were standing awkwardly. As I approached, the girls began to file up the winding black staircase and I joined the back of the queue. When we had all reached the corridor upstairs everyone stopped and I was told I had to go to the front of them and go in first. With a distinct feeling of dread I put my hand on the doorknob. Every different possibility of what could happened flashed through my mind from Mr Birling granting our request and giving us all higher wages and promotion, to him screaming at us and dismissing everyone on the spot. As I opened the door I was hit by the smell of stale cigar smoke and expensive leather. Mr Birling was sitting in his big, expensive chair looking at us with a false, welcoming smile on his face.

'I'm sorry to say this girls,' he said 'but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. I cannot accept this rebellion and I cannot consider raising your wages.'
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I felt empty. I could only just afford to live on the meager amounts I was earning at Birling and co. I have no idea what I'm going to do.

-Several months later-

I don't know what to do. I just lost my job at Milwards. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I loved being amongst the pretty clothes and the way everyone spoke to each other there. So politely. It was all that stupid little spoilt girls fault. Coming into the shop like she owned the place. She had a ...

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