Handwritten page of a diary dated August 19, 1979
… it will ROCK to escape the factory and get back to school, but I needed every penny of every paycheck I made this summer. For one thing, a bunch of us are going to the No Nukes Concert at Madison Square Garden next month, and I didn’t want Skinny Bob to feel left out, so I’m buying his ticket (with his and mine that is a total of $31 PLUS our train fares, ouch).
There’s only one thing I’m pretty sure I need to do before I escape there — every day on my way back from the lunchroom I pass by this old-fashioned switch on the wall in the room that smells like chemicals. And every day I have to talk myself out of flipping it. I do not know why this thing CALLS OUT TO ME. It might not even be hooked up to anything any more, but if it is, and something bad happens, then I might get in trouble, and since this is the only real job I’ve ever had, I might need to use my boss as a reference. What if there’s some future job I really want someday, and my boss tells them “Yes, she showed up every day and worked hard … but then she FLIPPED THE SWITCH and enough extra chemicals were released to force us to evacuate the building for the rest of the night.”
No. A switch that could evacuate the factory would look more modern. Right? And it would be under glass with a lock and key. Right?