Out of School and Into the Factory

Out of School and Into the Factory

It was Friday. And I was starting in the factory on Monday. I couldn’t wait. No more school for me. I was a big grown up girl now. My mother was delighted. “No more pullin’ you out of that bed to get you to school before the bell rings. And no more teachers complainin’you spend more time copying other people work than doing’ your own work. You’ll soon learn what real work is now, girl, “she finished.

I could hardly believe it me self. I was fifteen and left school! At last I could go into the factory to work and earn my own money. I think I grew two more feet tall that weekend as I swaggered about. I was all grown up now.

My Auntie Annie worked in the shirt factory. “Just do as you’re told and you’ll be grand,” she told me.

I met Greta. She was just starting that day too.

We were led into a long room full of big machines. The noise was deafening. It was like heavy thunder on a tin roof.

Foot pedals on the machine were flying as the girls worked flat out and had a shouted conversation with each other about where they’d went dancing at the weekend.. There must have been hundreds of machines all going like lightening. How could the machinists chat and sing over that din!

Scared stiff I wished I’d stayed at school and listened to the teachers.

Greta and me were told to sit at these two machines and were given pieces of striped cloth. “Practice yer sewing and get to know yer machine,” we were instructed.

We looked at each other,bewildered. How did you get to know a sewing machine? It wasn’t long before I found out.

Carefully I put the piece of cloth under the needle and pressed the foot pedal. The machine took off like a runaway horse.

” For God sake lift yer foot of the pedal. If ye break the bloody thing on yer first day, John, the mechanic will not thank ye for givin’ him extra work on a Monday,” the woman beside me bawled above the noise. I lifted my foot. The machine slowed, shuddered as if I’d given it a shock and finally stopped.

“Now, watch and copy what I’m doin’,” the woman ordered. “Now, do ye think you could copy that?”

“The teachers all said it was what I was best at, copying,”

After dinner time I started to get the hang of how much pressure to apply to the metal pedal. And before clocking off time I was sewing if not exactly straight lines at least it resembled a row of stitching.

“Now, didn’t you do grand for yer first day?   Count yourself lucky you didn’t get the needle stuck in your finger.”

I took a step back from the machines.

“Och don’t worry, you’ll only ever do that the wance,” she assured me.

I tell you now; I never forgot my first day in the factory.

Gemma Hill 2021©