"Well," says a very uncertain voice. "I-- think you might have gotten yourself in a bit of a scrape there.

Do you want some tea?"

Meanwhile-- 

Anita will put on her plainest clothes and forego putting on half her makeup, until she's pretty sure she looks like someone who might need a job at a factory. And then she will go ask whether they're hiring, in the tone of a person who is fairly desperate for an immediate job.

"Yes," says the bored lady at the front desk. "Fill out these forms and we'll see if we can find you a place."

There are SO MANY FORMS. There are thirty pages of forms. Most of them ask for the same information that was on the previous forms-- name and address and previous employment and references.

That is a kind of bizarre number of forms for a factory?? She thinks?? Not that she's ever tried to work at a factory before?? Whatever. They're probably not even going to check these. She'll just make some hard-to-contact stuff up and make sure that all twelve versions of her made up information are perfectly identical.

The receptionist takes the forms, briefly scans them, and then tosses them in the garbage.

"We need someone on paint, section thirty-nine."

Wow. Okay. "Thank you. Which way is that?"

She gestures vaguely at something that indicates half the factory. "Shift starts in fifteen minutes, if you're five minutes late they dock a half-hour of pay."

"Thank you ma'am. I understand." She doesn't actually need the pay, so... good enough excuse to look around while she searches for anything that might be section thirty-nine? What do people seem to be doing here.

It seems to be a factory.

People are working on an assembly line. Each person is tightening a screw, adding a chunk of equipment, welding two pieces together.

Is it... at all possible to tell what they're making? Doesn't look like clothing...

"Hey!" a man says. "You're not supposed to be wandering around. Where do you work?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm trying to find section thirty-nine? They said something about paint?"

"Come into my office," the man says.

"Okay?"

Moderately concerning! But she is here to learn what concerning things are happening here, so. Sure.

He closes the door. "You can't even find the paint section? What is this, your first day?"

"Yes?"

"Oh," he says. "Well, you're very stupid even if it is your first day. You couldn't get someone to guide you? What kind of moron are you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see anyone who looked like they had any free time on their hands."

"Of course not," he says. "Because the other people are hardworking and actually get their jobs done, and you are a useless, worthless piece of shit."

"I see, sir."

Observations, everyone with any authority here seems to be even more of a jackass than the average person with any authority. She does not feel like she has any idea... why.

"I bet you can make up for it," the boss says. "You're a pretty girl, I'm sure we can find something you're useful for." 

Pretty unsurprising that sexual harassment (and probably worse) is also an element of the general atmosphere of misery here. "Shall I get to the paint section and start working, sir?"

"Yes," he says. "And dinner at six pm tonight?"

"If you'd like, sir?"