Mimi explained. "It’s not the pay, it's a lack of time."
Betty asked. "What if I worked for him? I can help out. I’ve worked in a laundry before."
Mimi said in Japanese. "She says she will work for us now."
Isamu said in Japanese. "No. This is a family run business. We don't need a silly little white girl in our way."
Mimi said. "He says no, this a family business."
Betty noted. "Yes, I got that impression. It seems that your entire family is working, right now."
Then Mimi explained some details about their business.
"We struggle to make our customers happy. To keep up with their demand we work and work. All we do is work. We don't have big customers; we only have many small customers. We have a lot of small customers.”
“Since the depression came, our business is struggling. We made our prices very low to stay alive. We work so hard and by hand. "
At times Betty could forget how severely the depression impacted most people. She felt guilty for not having it rougher economically. She hadn't gone hungry in a long time. Everyone was fighting to survive, but Betty had an advantage. She was lucky enough to be born into the type of body she could sell. It wasn't the backbreaking work Mimi had to do, it was just a job. Betty had worked less for more money. She was able to save, but it wasn't without sacrifice. It seemed like everything she wanted, required it.
Betty decided to up her offer. She Asked. "What if I could figure out a way to make your work easier?"
Mimi listened intently as Betty continued. "When I worked in the hospital laundry we had less people working but we did more wash. We let the machines do all the work and we finished by the end of our shift. We had time to do other things. Your family is trapped in your washing system. You are as reliant on your contraption, as it is on you to do the work. What if I got you an industrial washer?"
Mimi smiled. She liked the idea, and relayed the new proposal to her father in Japanese. "She says she will buy us a washing machine."
Isamu laughed and asked in Japanese. "Her?"
Mimi said in English, "He doesn't believe you can get one."
Betty replied. "What if I could? If I figure out a way to get your family a washing machine, will he train me?"
Mimi and her fathered bickered back and forth. Betty could see that Mimi was sold on the offer but her father resisted. Mimi understood immediately how a big washing machine would allow them to work more efficiently. They would have more time for fun. They wouldn't have to work as hard. She pressed him and wouldn’t give up.
He was tired of wasting time. He thought Betty was full of wishful thinking. He'd been let down so many times in his adult life; he didn't think for one second that her promise could become reality. Once he heard enough nagging from his daughter, he growled at her with an angry red face. "I relent. Tell the silly little white girl, if she gets us a great big washing machine, I will teach her how to fight."
Then he retreated to the ironing press, a place where he wouldn’t have to argue, in a huff. Isamu’s sarcasm didn’t need to be translated for Betty. She understood that he didn’t believe her, but she wanted to know exactly what he said.
Mimi adjusted the translation a bit. "He agreed, but it has to be a great big washing machine. Only then will he teach you the secret fighting style of our ancestors."
Betty said, "Deal."
She grabbed and shook Mimi's hand and thanked her. Moments later she was walking down the street. She was going to learn how to fight. Now all she had to do was get a giant washing machine, so she headed to the only place where she actually saw one.
Betty arrived at the hospital she interned at. Then headed into the basement to the laundry. She stopped to chat with a few of the laundry girls as they folded. Then Betty saw one of the janitors and approached him with some questions. “Hey Ivan. Do you know if the hospital is ready to get rid of any of these yet?”
He shook his head with a knowing smile. “Believe me honey we ain’t trading those in until they rattle apart."
“Where can people buy these?” She asked.
“These here are industrial appliances. You can’t just buy these at any ol’ department stores. You gotta’ get em’ from a dealer. I bet they cost a pretty penny to boot.” He responded.
“Do know where they got them?” She asked.
“There is a stamp with a name on one of the machines, somewheres.” Ivan stepped over to one of the washers and began searching for the plate.
The washer looked like a boiler turned on its side. It was a large metal cylinder about shoulder height. One end had a door. The other end was connected to some machinery.
“Looky here.” He found the stamp.
It had information about the unit; the serial number, the name of the dealer and two phone numbers. One was for sales, the other for parts and service. Betty thanked the janitor for his assistance and wrote the information on a small note pad. Within moments she was headed down a long cinderblock corridor to several empty office spaces in the hospital basement. They’d been phased out during various restructuring initiatives and forgotten about by the administration. Only the girls from the laundry and switchboard knew the extra phone were there. Both teams kept quiet about the oversight, so they could use them for personal calls.
Betty called Buckle’s Industrial Appliances and spoke with a salesman named Kent. He led the conversation. As he collected information he weaved in and out of small talk, and sales pitch. He carefully crafted every idea with subtle selling points floating beneath the surface of the chat.
As they exchanged pleasantries, and a series of preplanned questions, Kent established that she worked for the hospital. This made his wallet throb and he started talking faster. He established the make and model of the equipment she was looking for. Eventually they got to the numbers. It was a Kelvinator 560 Industrial Washer.
Betty asked, "How much is the washer?" and held her breath.
Kent responded. "$298.29, not including shipping or installation."
She exhaled then asked. "How much is shipping?
Kent said. "To the hospital? It would be about 5 bucks."
Betty asked. "How much is the installation?"
Kent said. "Another 7 bucks."
Kent tried to advance the sale. "Would you like me to get an invoice started? We already have all the hospital account information in our records. In fact, we could deliver and install one to you in 2 days."
It was tempting to Betty, $300 may as well have been a million in a world where a loaf of bread cost 8 cents. Since she was fired from Razzles her income dropped to zero. She was living off what remained of her savings and she was still months away from finishing her nursing degree. Until then she was an intern and working for free.
The washer would take a serious bite out of her buying-back-the-farm fund. There was only one place where she knew she could make back that kind of money, Razzles. But after the way she was booted out, there was no way Betty could show her face there again.
Kent interrupted her thoughts. "Hello, hello?"
Betty said. "I’m sorry, I was pulled away from the phone. Don’t do anything for now. I will let you know."
She hung up. She wanted to run out of the hospital, but there was nowhere to go. No one could help her with this decision. She sat alone in the cold room thinking. She couldn’t have everything she wanted so she had to make a choice. She had to decide how important fighting bad-guys was to her.
Two mornings later the Katana clan followed a deliveryman down the stairs of their laundry to the street, where two brand new Kelvinator 560 Industrial Washing Machines were waiting to be installed. Isamu led the deliverymen to the freight elevator in the alley.