America 1982-Chapter 108 - 24: Respect is Not Condescension or Charity

"Fifty bucks plus thirty in Target Supermarket discount coupons." A man, having dressed in his somewhat dirty Target discount chain supermarket delivery worker’s uniform, flung several bills and three discount coupons out of his wallet.

Susan Curtis fastened her bra and said with dissatisfaction, "Hey! The price we agreed on was eighty in cash."

"Babe, that was before ’Seeking Pleasure’ ad and when I called to ask you, you bragged about having F-rank big digits, but you actually have only C. The service I got was discounted, so my payment should enjoy the same discount," the man said coldly, turning away from the woman he had just been holding close.

Seeing Susan’s face filled with indignation and her wanting to charge at him, the man shook his massive fist with a sneer, "Babe, it’s not the only part of me that’s hard."

"You’re a terrible client," Susan said, ultimately lacking the courage to argue with him. She just walked over, opened the door coldly, and muttered a complaint.

The man grinned and walked towards the door, "Your terrible chest only deserves a terrible client like me, see you next time."

Once the door closed again, twenty-four-year-old Susan lay numbly back on her bed, reached for the cigarettes beside her, lit one and put it in her mouth, rolled her eyes, and looked out the window.

Only at sunset could the light briefly penetrate the window of this rundown apartment, lending her a semblance of warmth amidst the desolation. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The phone on the nightstand rang again. With the cigarette in her left hand and the receiver in her right, her face was still ice-cold and numb, but she said in a voice too sweet it was sickly, "Baby, looking for some fun?"

Laughter from a bunch of youths came from the other end. Clearly, they were just a group of bored kids, not prospective clients. Susan hung up directly, and the room fell back into silence.

After enjoying a moment of quiet, Susan tossed the cigarette butt and picked up the "Seeking Pleasure" magazine beside her, ready to see if any other sisters in the trade had come up with more tempting ad phrases that she could copy.

As Susan flipped through the thirty-page "Seeking Pleasure," by the tenth page, tears already covered her numb face. Every time she read this magazine, she cried, not even knowing why—perhaps because she found dozens of women with the same fate as hers listed with phone numbers on just a page, lying on their beds in despair, waiting for the next client.

Thirty pages, plus those working within entertainment companies, accounted for thousands of women, displayed like discounted merchandise in the magazine, waiting for customers to choose.

Soon, she reached the last page of the magazine, and then she saw an advertisement that was totally out of place, to the point that Susan wasn’t even sure if it could be considered an ad:

"Here, computer skills training is free, here, we freely recommend job positions, here, we’ll teach you to stand on your feet in this world with skills beyond your body. If you haven’t completely given up on this world yet, please give us a chance to help you. This is the Stanford University Women’s Equality Promotion Association. Give us a call; we are willing to listen."

Below was a line with a phone number.

Susan lived in San Jose, only forty kilometers away from Stanford University in Palo Alto, and of course, she knew the name of that university.

Her father, who had long disappeared from her life, had angrily cursed, blaming Stanford University for their joblessness.

Years ago, Palo Alto had been the West Coast’s largest production site for food machinery and military weapons, sustaining tens of thousands of workers. But as wars ended and times changed, the factories built during World War II shut down. Stanford University then bought those lands and renamed them Stanford Industrial Park. The jobless workers always thought Stanford would open factories in this industrial park, but eventually, only companies related to physics and high technology were established, making it impossible for them to even get security jobs in the industrial area without a high school diploma.

Susan had a high school diploma, but she had no job and no place to live. She stayed in an apartment provided by a friend, who took 30% from each of her transactions for offering the place.

"Please give us a chance to help you, Stanford." She read the ad phrase mockingly, her expression turning into one of derision. Yet, as if possessed, she picked up the phone. Just like those youths who called to tease her, she wanted to give Stanford a call for amusement.

...

Tommy scanned the faces of several girls, including Renee, who were responsible for answering calls. His gaze finally rested on the person in charge, Garry Good, and he walked over, looking him square in the eye, "I don’t get why every one of you who answers the phone has a punchably insincere tone! Without even needing those women battered by a fucked-up life to question it, I myself feel like you’re a bunch of damn frauds just by hearing that tone."

Renee covered her mouth instinctively. It was the first time Tommy had spoken in such vulgar terms in front of her, especially with several girls around, all members of the Women’s Equality Promotion Association.