Now the end of the 19th century, New York's prosperity had already taken shape.
However, skyscrapers over ten stories high would not rise from the ground for another ten years or so, and upscale department stores and office buildings were still about two years away.
As a time traveler, if she were a lady who started with several thousand dollars in dowry, it would be quite easy to catch the wave of the times. She could simply find ways to invest in now obscure but soon-to-be famous companies and enjoy the profits.
But the reality is, she lives in a real society where opportunities are rare, competition is fierce, and the cost of making mistakes is enormous.
Eloise recognizes this, feeling the awkwardness of knowing which lottery numbers would win but not even having two dollars to buy a ticket.
All that talk about going to heaven when you die is a lie. She was already dead, yet she was back to being a working-class person.
Aunt Terri and cousin Louise walked in front, both dressed in brown cotton and linen long dresses with crinolines and hip pads, without the need for hoop skirts. They wore tight-fitting short jackets with lapels, fastened with brass buckle belts, indistinguishable from the attire of other low-income female workers on the street.
They were discussing today's plan to settle their account at the cheap coal shop they always patronized and get some coal on credit for the next week.
Louise calculated the price on her fingers and said, "Coal ash is indeed cheap, two shillings and nine pence per bushel, but it doesn't last, burning out in just a few days."
Eloise followed behind and listened closely. She knew that one bushel was approximately 25 kilograms.
The stove at home consumed a lot of fuel, requiring about 7-8 kilograms of coal ash for three meals a day, plus boiling water and heating at night. The 25 kilograms could last about two and a half days, costing about a dollar a week.
But by night, the coal ash would already be reduced to ash, leaving Louise and Bella shivering the whole night, and they sneezed several times in the morning as a result.
Aunt Terri shook her head, "I thought we'd try it out, but I didn't expect it to burn so quickly. This time, let's buy coal blocks, even if they're more expensive."
"Yes, it's not good to get sick from being cold at night," Louise agreed.
Medium coal blocks cost six shillings and four pence per bushel, because they burn longer, lasting three to four hours each, sufficient for three and a half days, but that would cost nearly a dollar and a half a week.
A dollar and a half didn't seem like much, but there were other necessities to buy, and that money would disappear mysteriously.
Not a single penny was left at the end of the week, and even buying an old blanket was out of the question.
Before he passed away, Uncle was a worker on a farm, suffering from asthma. In order to treat his illness, the family spent their meager savings and even sold second-hand clothes and furniture for medicine, but his life could not be saved. Aunt Terri has been even more destitute these past two years.
Now, the household has five people to feed.
Aunt Terri was calculating the accounts in front, sighing, when she heard Eloise quicken her steps and catch up.
"Aunt Terri, I think I could do another job," Eloise said under Aunt Terri's inquiring gaze.
"Now I only work three half-days a week, I still have a lot of time left. I could deliver fresh milk or wash dishes at a restaurant."
"The money earned could buy coal."
Louise laughed at Eloise's suggestion, "You silly girl, finding a job in New York now is not so easy, and you have no skills or expertise. Just working hard physically would be too much for you."
"The part-time dishwashers at our hotel's back kitchen have to soak their fingers in water for half a day, their skin becomes numb from the cold and they even grow sores. After healing, they would be exposed to the cold again the next day. Even if they can earn a dollar and a half a day, I think it's not worth it."
Aunt Terri nodded approvingly, stretching out her hand to fondly embrace Eloise.
"Don't worry, every family is like this. We are lucky we have a stable income. Just wait a few more months, once the weather warms up, life will be easier."
Aunt Terri was quite satisfied with Eloise, who was always gentle and understanding, but she couldn't bring herself to make her own niece work like a beast of burden.
She thought Eloise might have been cold and therefore suggested finding other work, so she hugged her arm and said,
"We can't keep using coal ash. If not, we'll just go to the Ganter Walter Market on 11th Street and buy more corn. This year's corn prices are pretty good, and a few cents can last a whole day."
That market was a slightly famous poor people's market in New York, selling mostly local crops like corn, potatoes, sweet potatoes, some local beef, and chicken.
"Alright then," Eloise replied, somewhat awkwardly lowering her head, realizing how simple she had thought things were.
Even if she was a time traveler, there were already a million people in New York, ninety percent of whom were working-class people. What good job could possibly fall into her hands?
Bad jobs would harm her health. She was penniless, struggling to eat and stay warm, with no skill in hand.
...Wait a minute, skill? She had one.
Is fashion design even a thing here?
In her previous life, Eloise worked for a fast-fashion brand and was the top-selling designer of the year.
But currently, there seem to be no such companies in the market, and even ready-to-wear companies are almost non-existent. The middle class and above all hire tailors for custom fittings, while most ordinary people sew their own clothes.
Become a tailor? At university, Eloise had systematically studied draping and flat patternmaking, and had personally completed a few graduation designs.
Creating modern-style fashion, drawing patterns, and making prototypes—she could easily handle all that.
However, in this era, the threshold for the tailoring industry is extremely high. Women's long gowns and men's suits all have their own aesthetic rules and mainstream styles. One cannot just dive in; you have to start by finding a tailor as a master and serving as an apprentice.
Being an apprentice, essentially means being a servant. First, you sweep the floor and take care of your master's meals and daily life for a few years, then you serve as an errand boy, running around with scissors and packages. Only after your master is too old to work do you get to slowly learn the craft and eventually assist in making clothes.
Eloise knows that she doesn't have the time or capital for that right now.
Therefore, it seems she'll have to start with smaller items to see if she can supplement her family's income.
She pondered this the entire walk, eventually following the footprints in the snow to Fifth Avenue, the back entrance of the Ritz Hotel.
The Ritz Hotel is located in a very prosperous and affluent area. The hotel is eight stories tall, thirty meters wide, with a façade of classic and sturdy white marble. The designer might have drawn inspiration from Baroque palace architecture.
While waiting in line to punch in at the entrance, Eloise stood by the wall and looked up. She could see the classically designed window sills and the imposing rooftop.
Against the backdrop of the snow, the building looked elegant and noble, as if one could peek through the glass windows to glimpse the luxurious interiors. It was immediately clear that even a night's stay would cost her half her life.
"Eloise Zaniron!" Mr. Wooster, the doorman, dressed in a loose tweed coat, held a magnifying glass and read names from the employee punch card.
Eloise quickly responded and signed in, squeezing past a few colleagues from the kitchen staff to enter through the back door—
She looked around and took in the interior of the Ritz Hotel's staff area.
Upon entering the corridor, on the left wall was an entire row of about two hundred wooden lockers, each assigned to an employee for storing their uniforms, including Eloise's half-day shift.
She fished a delicate key, engraved with the letters "Ritz Hotel," from her pocket, found her locker, and opened it to reveal a neatly folded uniform and a white lace-trimmed bonnet.
For a poor girl, this job was already quite respectable.
The Ritz Hotel was large in scale, well-known in high society, and managed with strict discipline. Employees could proudly declare their affiliation, feeling a sense of pride.
The changing rooms were to the right, already bustling with staff from various departments changing into their uniforms. The hotel had the newest hot water and heating systems, so it wasn't too cold.
So, she took off her waistcoat and outer skirt, donned the hotel's uniform black gown and embroidered white blouse, and tucked her hair into the bonnet.
Eloise squeezed in front of the full-length mirror for a quick assessment of herself.
She wasn't particularly tall, somewhat thin to the point of being skinny, with not-so-great hair, but her skin was fair and clean. Her eyes were a pure, light color, her nose was well-defined, her lips a bit thin, but all in all, her features were harmonious and above average.
With some makeup, she could pass for a beauty, which was why she could land an actress role in the book.
Overall, she now looked almost exactly like a maid from "Downton Abbey," appearing neat, dignified, and pleasing to the eye. This was likely the main reason Mrs. Morrison had approved her for this job, under Aunt Terri's recommendation.
"Mrs. Morrison said that Room 701, the VIP suite, will be hosting two incredibly important guests today. In about fifteen minutes, she'll be checking everyone's appearance…"
A colleague nearby was complaining about their common supervisor, Mrs. Morrison.
The hotel has many departments, but the Morisson couple were handpicked by the hotel manager, Pengler Ferrand, as the male and female supervisors.
Mr. Morrison manages the front-of-house work, overseeing all male attendants who welcome guests, serve dishes, open bottles, and operate the elevators.
Mrs. Morrison manages the behind-the-scenes staff: those who clean rooms, do laundry, dust, change sheets, and maintain the elevators.
In this era, men and women are paid differently, with male employees earning a third more than female employees. So, Ritz Hotel's male employees are mostly for show, while female employees make up the majority of the workforce.
Then there's the kitchen, where the highly paid French head chef, Mr. Wolff, is the ruler of that domain. The kitchen is located in the basement, a world of strict hierarchy on its own, which we won't delve into for now.
Eloise stepped out of the changing room, moving silently through the area. She walked past the corridor next to the storage lockers and saw a row of neat offices, including those of the Morrisons and several other rooms that belonged to the elderly accountants in their sharp suits.
Eloise passed by the respectable offices, then went through the storage room, and after that, she passed by her Aunt Terri's laundry room and her cousin's linen room, finally arriving at her own workspace.
The small warehouse where the chimney sweepers stored their tools had a sign with the Arabic numeral "11" etched on it.
The door was open, and inside were two female colleagues who had already changed into their work clothes. They were sitting around a bronze hot water pipe, chatting idly.
They were about the same age. As soon as Eloise entered, a girl with slightly red hair asked her, "Eloise, come over and let's arrange the tasks."
This red-haired girl's name was Laura. She also worked half-days, but her tenure was much longer than the other four workers in their small department.
Therefore, she naturally became the leader.
There were quite a few small departments in the hotel with only a few employees, and this was an unspoken rule that everyone acknowledged.
Eloise obediently nodded and replied, "Alright, sure."
"Amy and Nasha aren't on duty today, so the three of us have a bit more work..." Laura glanced at Eloise and added, "Here's this week's housing schedule. Have a look and tell me which floors you'd like to take?"
Eloise took the schedule, which was provided by the front desk. Every cleaning team had to receive and distribute the assignments.
The basement level didn't need to be cleaned, the first floor was the guest reception hall, the second floor had regular single rooms without fireplaces, and the third and fourth floors and below were equipped with hot water pipes, so fireplaces were rarely used.
The fifth and sixth floors had more suites, and currently, the technology wasn't advanced enough to install hot water pipes, making them the most challenging areas to clean.
The seventh floor had several luxury suites for VIP guests, the eighth floor was the attic storage and the manager's offices, where fireplaces were not very densely distributed.
Eloise looked up, glancing at Laura's expression, and then at another girl named Ryan. The two of them were clearly in a clique, and no matter what she said now, they would always find a way to give her the toughest tasks.
She sighed inwardly and resignedly said, "I'll take the fifth and sixth floors then."
Laura's face lit up with satisfaction:
"That's just perfect. Ryan, you can clean the third and fourth floors. I'll finish sweeping the fireplaces on the seventh and eighth floors, then I'll just run through the first and second floors during the noon break, so you two won't have to go there."
Eloise thought to herself, that's more like it.
Laura usually wouldn't push things too far. The fifth and sixth floors were cleaned in rotation, it was just that Eloise often ended up with them.
With the tasks assigned, the bronze bell hanging in the corridor suddenly rang out, and a colleague's voice came from next door.
"Mrs. Morrison is here!"
…
