Ellie DeWitt Bukater: Part II

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Tommy

I couldn't believe I was living in New York. The city I've pictured for so many years was now my home. It was different than Ireland, much different. I had a lot to get used to. It was so crowded, everyone walked on top of each other. In Ireland, there were rolling hills that seemed endless. You could go outside for peace and quiet. Here, not so much. Granted, there were busy parts in Ireland, especially where I worked and where most of the jobs were. But it was almost silent on the farm I lived with my family. In New York, everywhere seemed to be busy. There was no quiet.

The sun was barely up when I woke up on my second day of being a New Yorker. Now that I made it here, the only thing on my mind was what the hell I was going to do to make a living. After settling in the kitchen and making some coffee, I looked through a newspaper set on the counter to see what job prospects were out there.

There were many listings. Workers were needed for the steel, canals, railroads, domestic services, the list went on. I was hopeful. I had experience back home in a handful of fields, I started to wonder if I had a chance for a higher level position. Maybe a shift supervisor or something like that, a few steps up from where I was back home. I could handle it. Decent pay was all I wanted.

But as I read on, I found that I didn't have a chance for many positions.

Irish need not apply.

Jesus Christ.

I groaned, setting the paper down. America was supposed to bring a better life. Everyone back home made it sound like it was the place to be, how you could go so far if you made it here. Now, I was here. And the only jobs I was eligible for were the same shit jobs I worked in Ireland. There was a reason the Irish could apply for those positions.

They were all the jobs no American wanted.

American dream my ass.

"You're up early."

I looked up to see John, already dressed in a suit and ready for the day.

"Figured I'd get an early start on the job hunt."

"How's that going?"

"Irish need not apply, but looks like they'll take anyone over at the sewage plant!" I exclaimed sarcastically. John chuckled uncomfortably as he poured a cup of coffee.

"It's awful, isn't it?"

"I knew it was bad here, but this is insane."

"I know. And you'll be running into competition with the jobs you can apply to. There's a lot of people fighting for any kind of position they can get their hands on."

"I don't even know where to start," I admitted, "I have experience but I'm starting to feel like I'm in over my head a bit."

"It's not easy for first generation immigrants" John took a seat from me across the table, "I've worked with a lot of Irish men who end up in a lot of trouble because they're in the same situation you are in. The positions out there are very long hours with very little pay."

"I'm used to it."

"They can barely afford rent," he expressed, "They're miserable. They drink, get into fights...Point is, I don't want you getting taken advantage of because you need the job."

"I feel like I won't have a choice," I stated.

"Listen Tommy," John paused, "What if I look into getting you a job in the courthouse?"

"I don't think I'm the suit wearin' type, John."

"No, no," he chuckled, "They're security positions."