Since my family were not going to be helpful about my taking a cooking job, I decided I would look for one all by myself and not to tell them about it till I'd got a permanent one.

    I had seen an agency advertised in a local paper, so as soon as there was no one about to say “Where are you going?” I rushed out of the house in search of it. I was wildly excited, and as nervous as if I were going on the stage. Finding the place quite easily, I tore up three flights of stairs, and swung breathlessly through a door which said “Enter without knocking, if you please.”

    The simple atmosphere of the office calmed me, and I sat down on the edge of a chair. The woman at the desk opposite looked carefully at me. Then she questioned me in a low voice. I answered softly and started to feel helpless. She wondered why I was looking for this sort of job, so I felt I had to give her the idea of a widowed mother struggling against poverty. But I felt more helpless when she told me that it would be difficult to get a job without experience or references. Suddenly, the telephone on her desk rang. While having a mysterious conversation, she kept looking at me. Then I heard her say:

    “In fact, I've got someone here who might suit.” She wrote down a number, and my spirits rose as she held out the paper to me, saying: “Ring up this lady. She wants a cook immediately. Cook a dinner for ten people tomorrow. Could you manage that, I wonder?”

    “Oh, yes,” say I—never having cooked for more than four. Then I rushed out and called the lady, Miss Cathy. I said confidently that I was just what she was looking for. “Are you sure?” she kept saying. Anyway she decided to employ me and a permanent position if I carried out the promise of my self-praise. I asked her what tomorrow's menu was to be.

    “Just a small, simple dinner: lobster cocktail, soup, turbot mornay, fruit salad and a savory.” In a rather shaken voice I promised to turn up in good time tomorrow and rang off.