Personal Narrative-Signor And Signora Luciano

“What’s her name again?” Signora Luciano asked. “Bella.” I replied. My cousin Bella was coming to America to earn money and to send back home to her family in Italy. She only speaks a dialect of Italian and so does the tenement owners, so they can communicate in some ways. I am living in the Luciano tenement. The Luciano family includes; Signor and Signora Luciano, Rocco, Serefina, the baby, Nico, and the other borders.
“Can she live here?” I said
“If she pays the rent, then yes. You better warn her, if I don’t get my money when it’s due, then she will have to help make the flowers.” Signora Luciano informed. “Okay” I said as I left the tenement. I needed to find her a job that pays well, because if the doesn’t earn that money she will have to make the flowers. Making the flowers was terrible. Signora Luciano made me work on the flowers because she lost one of her borders and she needed money. She just yells at you to work faster. She even yells at her own children! They always look miserable because they are so dirty and tired.
I was walking down the street toward the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.
I think if I explained where Bella was coming from and her background I think she could get a job no matter what. The factories were always looking for workers and people to make the shirtwaists, so Bella is guaranteed a job. As I walk into the factory a man greets me and asks, “How may I help you?” He was a medium sized man with brown hair dressed in a suit. He was definitely a wealthy
man.
“I was looking for a person to talk to about applying for a job.” I replied. The man looked at me strangely, “Shouldn’t you be out on the street selling newspapers or something?” he said. “Oh no, I am looking for a job for my cousin Bella.” I explained. “Well then, right upstairs.” the man said. “Thank you.” I said as I walked up the flight of stairs. I feel bad for the people who have to work here. The seven flights of stairs are steep and narrow, so if there was ever a fire, it would be very difficult to get out. I finally entered the room. There must have been hundreds of machines at work or people fixing the shirtwaists.
A man walks over and asks, “What might you be looking for?”
“My cousin is coming to America is just a couple of days and she needs a job.” I replied.
“Well then, tell her she got the job.” he said.
“Don’t you want to know about her first?” I asked.
“Oh no, no, no. As long as I know she will work for me and respect the rules, I don’t need to know anything else about her.” he explained.
“Ok.” I said as I leaving the factory. I noticed on the wall, as I was walking out, there was a handwritten copy of the rules. There were three copies; one in Yiddish, one in English, and one in Italian. What about the other languages? Did they care for people that spoke a different language than them? I studied it for a minute. “No Procrastinating, No Smoking, No taking too long in the bathroom, No talking back to the bosses, etc.”