Chapter 858: Making money isn't actually that hard

The reporter knew what the editor-in-chief wanted in a story, and he also knew what kind of story he needed to win the Golden Newspaper Award.

He once thought that for the sake of news, for the sake of media justice, he could sacrifice everything.

But at this moment, he suddenly felt... a bit of torment.

The reporter's silence made Oge's wife realize that this reporter indeed had a job suitable for them—at the very least, it was a piece of news!

She looked at the reporter and reached out to grab his arm. "I beg you, our family is in desperate need of a job right now!"

"Oge... I don't know how to describe him, but it's very clear that he won't be able to find work in the short term, at least not a high-paying job like he had before."

A wage nearly double that of an ordinary person was indeed a high-paying job for Oge and his family, who were also ordinary people.

The reason those garment factories were unwilling to hire him now was that he still placed himself in the position of a "master tailor."

In a factory, master tailors often represented a group independent of the factory system; they had their own break rooms and their own canteens in the factory, and the food they ate was even prepared by the factory.

Cutting, sewing, measuring, ironing—they were responsible for the most critical parts of these processes.

After a batch of fabric arrived, the factory owner didn't know how to cut it, how to make it, or how to produce samples, and the low-level tailors didn't know either.

It was entirely up to these skilled workers to set the standards. After receiving the blueprints, the workers responsible for calculating the data would set different standards because there was often only one blueprint, but they had to make many sizes.

How this data was arranged wasn't done casually; it required a scientific calculation method. After the blueprints for different sizes were produced, they would be handed over to the master cutters.

The skilled cutters would produce some components based on the data on these blueprints and then place the components on the prepared fabric for cutting.

Some were drawn directly onto the first piece of fabric by these skilled workers, and then the subsequent pieces followed this fabric for cutting.

What was cut out were all individual pieces of fabric. If no one told you how to assemble these pieces, those ordinary workers might not be able to do it well.

Then came the work of the master tailor; he would sew these pieces together according to the blueprint, leaving how much of an edge and how deep the stitch should be, all of which would be done.

The clothes produced in the end were actually still unformed; finally, they had to be handed over to the master ironers, who knew how to iron them just by looking at the blueprint.

What was finally ironed out by the iron was a piece of clothing exactly the same as the blueprint.

This entire process was called "sampling."

Oge was responsible for the sewing work, which was also a very important step.

It was difficult for him to continue seeking this easy, high-paying job because the things he did and his position, along with the influence he could exert within the factory, made people worry about his subsequent performance.

But if he were willing to lower his own wages and not be responsible for such an important position, perhaps some factories would hire him.

But if they lowered their wages, they would never be able to pay back that money in their lifetime!

Oge's wife was in desperate need of a job that could earn money, whether for them to fill their stomachs in the near term or from a long-term planning perspective.

A woman didn't need to act coquettishly; she only needed to plead in a low voice to make some men feel pity.

"Madam, actually... I'll say something that might be very inappropriate, but given your current conditions, it's very difficult to find a suitable job in Jincheng."

"If you can accept a wage of ten-something dollars a month, perhaps you could try, but those jobs are either very tiring or very dirty, and not decent at all."

This wasn't a question of gender discrimination, but rather that a full-time housewife suddenly entering society had no corresponding survival skills.

She didn't have a university or vocational school diploma and couldn't find a corresponding job, while jobs like sales clerks required strong social skills, which Oge's wife might not be competent at.

The reporter was speaking the truth; he sympathized with this lady, but he couldn't lie just because of sympathy, and now wasn't the time to lie either.

When Oge's wife heard the reporter say this, she was already on the verge of despair. Ten-something dollars a month wasn't even enough for the hospital bills, let alone the fact that they still had to live and had their own expenses.

Even if they compressed their daily expenses to fifty cents—bread cost about twenty cents or so, with the continuous escalation of the war and part of the grain-producing areas on the Tanfei Continent being covered by gunfire last year.

And the civil war in the God Empire on the East Continent led to a large amount of farmland being destroyed and still in the stage of restoration, so the price of grain had been rising.

From the five-cent-a-pound whole wheat bread at Old Joe's Bakery six years ago, it had now risen to about twelve or thirteen cents to buy a pound.

Prices had more than doubled, yet people's incomes had only increased by about fifteen percent, while they also had to face a twenty percent basic tax and war tax!

The cost of living was getting higher and higher.

Ten-something dollars a month wasn't even enough to eat.

"Could it be... that there is no job in this world that I can do?"

Oge's wife covered her face and began to cry; she was truly desperate!

Her husband was injured and lost his job, owing the hospital a large sum of money; it was said that under the influence of interest, they would eventually have to pay back over fourteen hundred dollars.

The house was gone, goddamn it, and now Oge still couldn't find a job, and she didn't know when he would be able to pull himself together again.

The burden of life seemed to suddenly press down on her shoulders; at this very moment, she was even more desperate and powerless than her husband!

Watching Oge's wife crying there, the reporter suddenly felt that perhaps giving her this choice wasn't harming her, but saving her.

If their family was truly desperate, perhaps they really might, as the editor-in-chief said, find a place to jump off.

Thinking of this, the reporter pursed his lips. "Madam, actually, there is a job that doesn't require you to have any experience or diploma, and the income is high."

The woman looked up, wiping her tears, and looked at the reporter. She even walked over and grabbed the reporter's arm, asking urgently, "What is it?"

The reporter opened his mouth, but the words reached his lips and weren't so easy to say.

"Please, you must tell me, I beg you!"

The reporter took a deep breath. "Streetwalking."

He saw that Oge's wife didn't react immediately, so he explained, "It's those girls and women who ask passersby for help. Although the price now is much cheaper than before because of the impact of the refugees, it's still two dollars a time."

"Madam, you look very young, and you have a temperament that those people don't have. There will definitely be people who like your type, and the price can even be higher."

"You only need three to five customers a day to get ten dollars..."

Oge's wife was very resistant to hearing these words at first, but when he said she could earn ten dollars a day, her eyes widened.

From the reporter's torment, it shifted to Oge's wife's torment.

She needed money, just as the reporter needed a big story!

The reporter had been observing the changes in her expression; he knew that Oge's wife was very likely to choose this path, and he hadn't lied either.

As a man, he actually preferred those girls who had no other choice; this gave him a kind of pleasure in destroying something beautiful.

And a little woman, a little woman of the Federation, plus her story, would definitely be very attractive.

Oge's wife didn't speak; she just remained silent, and the reporter didn't bring it up again. He knew that someone still needed to give a final push.

When they returned home in the evening, the couple remained silent. Their daughter, seeing that dinner was just a slice of bread with no jam or any other side dish, took the bread and went straight back to her room.

The next day, and the day after that, both of them were out looking for work.

The more they looked for work, the more desperate they became!

Oge had already lowered his wage requirements to fifty dollars, but still, no one was willing to hire him. He was completely desperate!

He returned home at noon, and his wife was packing up some clothes. "Are you going out?"

His wife just shook her head. "We have no money left. We don't even have money for dinner. I need to go out and sell some clothes to get money for dinner."

Oge hung his head and went back into the room without coming out, while his wife silently packed up some clothes.

Among them were new clothes she had bought just last year; she had only worn them twice.

The first time was when she bought them, and the second time was during the New Year. She loved these clothes very much, but now, she had to sell her favorite outfit.

She hung her head, tears falling one by one.

Selling old clothes didn't go smoothly either. Oge had spent ninety-nine cents to buy these clothes for her, but the people on the street were only willing to offer thirty-five cents, and they demanded she throw in a skirt as well.

Items worth a total of one dollar and forty-eight cents were now only being offered thirty-five cents for—barely enough for their family's food for tonight and noon!

For the first time, she felt the weight of the saying that living is hard, just for the sake of two meals.

After arguing with a customer, the customer cursed her as a bitch and left angrily, and her mood sank into depression again.

After a while, she looked at the reporter. "Can I really make ten dollars a day?"

The reporter nodded.

Then she began to pack her things; she had made her decision.

A few minutes away from home, she stopped and glanced at the bread behind the bakery window on the street. She then turned to look at the reporter. "Can you give me two dollars?"

The reporter looked at her suspiciously. "I can't do that."

A look of determination appeared on her face. "You are my first customer."

A moment later, she returned home with a loaf of bread, having also bought two tomatoes and a few leaves of lettuce from the roadside.

Fortunately, there were still condiments at home, and soon a fruit and vegetable sandwich was made. At least it looked much better than yesterday.

"Did you sell the clothes?" Oge asked.

His wife nodded. "Yes."

Oge held his head in his hands. "I'm sorry."

She just smiled. "Eat. Only when you're full will you have the energy to look for work tomorrow."

After their daughter returned and saw the simple dinner, which was still better than last night's, her mood seemed to stabilize a bit.

The family of three exchanged a few hollow words and then went their separate ways.

The next day, Oge left first, then their daughter, and the wife stayed until the end.

She looked at the reporter and asked, "What is the first step I need to take?"

The reporter was a bit eager; honestly, he had never interacted with this kind of housewife before. "You need to pick an easy-to-recognize name first."

"For example?"

"Candy!"

Next was naturally the part about natural communication. Oge's wife shed tears as she completed her first job. When it was finished, the reporter couldn't help but mention some things about the work.

"After I'm done like this, you can get up, clean yourself, return to the workplace, and wait for the next customer."

"You have to pay a little attention to the hygiene of the environment; this determines whether your customers will come back a second time."

"Also, you can act a bit more fragile and vent your grievances to the customers, if they are willing to talk to you."

"If you encounter someone who wants to hurt you, you can refuse and call for help."

"Of course, if a customer wants to play something more exciting, and it's within your tolerance, you can agree to it and then ask for more..."

He said a lot of things to pay attention to regarding this job, all of which were firmly remembered by this newly born person, Ms. Candy.

Then she put on her favorite clothes and skirt, dressed herself up, and left home with the reporter.

The reporter had reported on streetwalkers before. In fact, most reporters who want to win awards focus on these dark sides and pain points of society.

But just reporting on some people running to the streets because of vanity or unwillingness to work hard simply cannot stir up social debate!

At most, people will think these girls are fucking cheap. Of course, they will still pay when it's time to pay; this doesn't stop them from thinking these girls are cheap.

So he knew very well the situation of streetwalkers in New Jincheng.

After the Lansi family ruled the entire city, the situation for streetwalkers improved quite a bit. They had people protecting these girls from being hurt by perverts.

The reporter took Candy to one of the busiest streets in the Imperial District. Although it was still morning, there were already quite a few streetwalkers here.

There were also some men observing these ladies.

When Candy appeared, the eyes of many men lit up as they looked at her. They saw fear in her eyes, which made them interested.

Some even intended to walk over, but the reporter raised his hand at them, stopping them.

"Next, I'm going to take you to register. They will give you a physical examination, and then they will give you a work badge, and only then can you stand on the street."

This made her feel incredible. She didn't know there were so many rules for standing on the street now.

The reporter smiled and explained, "This is a rule of the Lansi family."

Soon she arrived at the place the reporter mentioned. After filling out the form, she was taken to a room by a female nurse.

There was also a female doctor in the room, a specialist who specifically checks for diseases in this area.

After everything was finished, she got her work badge.

As she and the reporter walked outside, she still felt a sense of incomprehension.

They even asked her if she was forced, if anyone threatened her, and so on.

Of course, most importantly, she was a bit worried because the form she filled out contained real information.

"They won't leak my information, will they?"

She was a little nervous.

The reporter shook his head. "You don't have to worry about this. Recording your personal information is just to avoid them not knowing who you are in case of extreme situations."

"Under normal circumstances, no one will go and flip through those files."

Candy didn't know what the reporter meant. In fact, this was to deal with the issue of tracing the source of call-girl corpses, so they could quickly lock down and find out who the deceased was.

The reporter took her to a nearby hotel and told her that bringing customers here was fine; this hotel specialized in this business, and she needed to pay the other party fifteen cents each time.

If she could rent a room long-term, the price would be lower, but she had just started, so there was no need to rent a room.

He also told her many details, such as if a customer asked to take her away, she must go to the registration area to register, and so on.

It was almost lunchtime when she finally arrived on the street and stood ready, wearing her favorite clothes and skirt.

She thought she would have to wait for a while, but after only five minutes, a customer arrived.

He had a small mustache, was slightly bald, and his physique was a bit chubby.

"First time?" The man with the mustache didn't ask for the price right away, but asked about something he cared about.

Candy nodded nervously, and the man with the mustache smiled with satisfaction. "How much?"

Candy remembered the reporter's words. She said nervously, a bit stuttering, "Three dollars."

The man with the mustache frowned. Just as she was thinking about whether to lower the price, the man with the mustache suddenly smiled. "Very reasonable." As he spoke, he took out three dollars, stuffed them into her hand, and then took the opportunity to put his arm around her. "Let's go..."

Candy became even more nervous, but there was also a hint of surprise she hadn't even realized herself!

Just like that... three dollars in hand?

She glanced at the reporter on the side of the road, and the reporter smiled at her.

The man with the mustache also noticed this scene, and the smile on his face became even more satisfied.

"Is that your husband?", he asked.

Candy was stunned for a moment and hurriedly denied it, but the man with the mustache seemed convinced that the reporter was her husband.

Ten minutes later, the two came down from upstairs. The man with the mustache was generally satisfied, except he felt his performance this time was a bit poor.

Candy gave one dollar to the hotel owner. After receiving the change, she looked at the two dollars and eighty-five cents in her hand and fell into a kind of shock she couldn't even explain herself!

Today was a busy day. New people came to the street, and many were willing to try the new quality.

Actually, business was better at night, but Candy didn't know how to tell Oge yet, so she returned home a bit early.

At dinner, Oge noticed something was wrong with her and asked, but she brushed it off by saying she had tripped.

Lying in bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She didn't know how to tell her husband that in just one day, she had earned over forty dollars.

(End of chapter)