An Inspector Calls Diary entries Essay.
“Gather your possessions and leave Eva”. These were the 6 final words Mr Birling said to me. Today I was sacked because I wanted a raise at work. Twenty-two and six is hardly enough to support myself. I have six pence in my purse and the rent is due in two days. I feel so rejected. I sometimes wonder why I bother to stand up for what I believe is right when stuck-up chauvinists like Mr Birling punish me for doing so.
How can he only sack four others and me when there were far more protesting? How am I going to eat? These are questions I can’t even begin to answer. I feel like my world has collapsed and I’m not sure if I’m being paranoid, but I can see this starting off a string of events that are eventually going to kill me. People think I’m strong willed and determined, and yes, I guess I am sometimes, but right now, I want to curl up and die.
This was my first real job and I’ve lost it for asking for more money. Was this really what I left home for? Conditions would still be the same but at least I had my family beside me to lean on.
But now, all I have to lean on is myself, and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to cope. Oh how I just wish I could return home. But it is so far away and I don’t have the money to return. Oh god, I am so scared, all I wanted was to be given the chance to make something of myself, and now I am back at square one. But then, was working for Birling really what I came here for? Ok, so I’ve lost my job and I haven’t any money. This is just an obstacle to overcome. I wasn’t going anywhere at Birlings anyway, and now I think about it, he was just giving me the push I needed to make something of myself. Tomorrow I am going straight into town to find a job. Tomorrow is a new day and the first day of the rest of my life.
Diary entry 2
Slowly I am losing the will to live. Today I was sacked from the one steady job I’ve had in two months. I was a sales assistant at Milwards, but I was sacked because I gave a mere smile to my co-worker. Apparently, a customer had complained, she had said I had been laughing at her. But like I would, like I would ever waste my breath on her. I admit she was extremely pretty and seemed nice enough, but then she just kicked up a fuss at the slightest smile I threw at my friend. I don’t understand why she would have wanted me fired when she, with all of her money to spend in expensive stores, wants someone less fortunate than her to suffer.
But then I guess that is the problem with society nowadays. The rich benefit from the poor, when really it should be us, the working class, that should benefit from the rich. Why is it that everyone except me is getting all the luck and the love and still they insist in putting me down? How can people like Mr Birling and that customer be so self-absorbed and go out of their way to put others down? Can they not just be happy with what they’ve got?
They are just making it harder for people like me to be someone, to go somewhere in life. That is all I want. All I want is to work for myself and my own, is that so much to ask? Oh how I long to just give up and let them win. But then, life is not a game. I cannot just give up and let them win. I must stand on my own two feet and say, “I am Eva Smith, and you are no longer going to make me suffer”. I guess the working life was not for me anyway. I think I will take a different approach in getting the money I need. I hope I am doing the right thing.
Diary entry 3
Once again I have been kicked to the curb, thrown away. Gerald has left me. He said he wasn’t doing the right thing and we went our separate ways. Don’t get me wrong, he was very nice about the account, and even offered me money until I get my feet back on the ground. I refused of course, and then he left without saying another word. The problem was, apart from when I told him my name was Daisy Renton; I was completely honest about my life, my financial situation and my feelings. And the fact that he left me is a clear indication that it was me he lost interest in, not the excuse he gave me about doing the right thing.
Sure, he said it was because he had a girlfriend back home and he wanted to be faithful to her but do I really believe him? Well, yes, about the girlfriend, but no, about being faithful. I was with him for the spring and the summer so why would he just decide to end it now after all we have been through? It is me who he lost interest in, just for the plain and simple fact that I am not interesting. But then why would anyone want me in the first place. I mean, I haven’t any money, I get fired from almost every job I get and I haven’t a decent place to live. Oh how I long to be someone, to make something of myself.
But how can I when I have to struggle against my faults? And that then brings up another question; how can I be someone when I have so many faults? I really liked Gerald, and even though it developed into a physical relationship he had only wanted to help me in the beginning. I guess he soon realised that I was past help, or I wasn’t worth helping. Maybe I should just start again. No, that won’t work; I already did that by becoming Daisy Renton and what a horrible mess that turned into. I’m going away to the seaside to remember the good times I had with Gerald, and to think what to do with my life. I remember how I felt at the end I my writing when Mr Birling sacked me. I was so sure I’d get back on my feet, so sure that it was a push in the right direction. And now, I realise just how naive I was. Do these people really go out of their way to hurt me, to knock me down?
Diary entry 4
Sometimes I wonder if there is a permanent sign on my back saying, “Welcome all weirdoes”. Well, perhaps not weirdoes, but people, mainly men, who are ready to take advantage of me. And I don’t suggest this in a humorous way, rather a hysteric, distraught way. One night last November I was in the Palace Bar and a man started talking to me. He bought me a few drinks, he also had a few; he was rather squiffy. As a matter of fact, so was I; I hadn’t eaten much that day. I got the impression he didn’t know what he was doing. He walked me home and then insisted to stay the night.
Afterwards, he claimed to not remember much about the event, which then brings up the question, am I really that much of a desperate cause that the only guy who has ever insisted to stay the night can’t even remember what happened the morning after? Oh dear, why does this keep happening? I am crying as I write this for I know now that I have lost my last and final chance of ever getting back on my feet. This is because the stupid fool, Eric Birling got me pregnant. I guess I only have myself to blame. But I just can’t stop thinking that I am having the child from the son of the man who started off my whole sequence of rejections. Now I am wondering whether it is not the general public that go out of their way to put me down, but in fact the Birling family. Well, except for the woman in Milwards and Gerald, but perhaps they are connected in some way to them. Maybe she was Mr Birling’s daughter. She was certainly very wealthy.
So I then met Eric a fortnight after the first meeting and we returned home and made love. Although I doubt he was in love with me, perhaps not even in like, but more like in pity or sorrow for me. It was then I got pregnant and it was then he told me his name and what he did for a living. I instantly knew that my involvement with him would come to nothing but pain and rejection. And I was right, I am now pregnant and I’ve been rejected, again, for the last time.
After I realised my situation I appealed to the Brumley Women’s Charity Organisation for help. I thought my situation would surely deserve the help apparently guaranteed by the charity, but obviously not. And once again, a member of the Birling family was involved, Mrs Birling. Not that I realised this in the beginning because I started off by introducing myself as Mrs Birling. Understandably, she was extremely shocked and from then on she was very biased against my appeal. I guess that was my biggest mistake, although I don’t see the problem, Eric did offer to marry me anyway. So I was forced to confess my situation, but of course I didn’t reveal Eric was the father. I confessed to having money offered to me but I refused it because it was stolen. And it was this, and other factors that I was refused help.
My last chance of getting help is now gone and I am now left to find work to provide for my baby and myself. How am I supposed to keep working when I start getting big? Oh dear, how I am going to live? I cannot even support myself let alone another. I am no way prepared to accept stolen money from Eric. The stupid, excited fool! Why has everything been such a struggle for me? Why do I keep getting knocked down after I slowly try to get back on my feet? Oh how I long to die. But can I really kill myself? And not only myself, but my child, another life? This really does not require a response, but is more of a direct answer to my problems. Death. A five-letter word that is so final but is so close to me I can almost feel it. I certainly feel dead inside. Is it really right for me to bring a baby into the world when all I can promise it is a life of hunger and poverty? I know what I have to do.