The driver once again got out of the car, opened the door, and helped them with their luggage. Frederick took out some money, intending to pay the fare and tip the driver a bit—after all, the guy had been driving around and chatting away with them for a while.
But the driver only accepted the fare and firmly refused the tip!
His reasoning was solid: giving a tip is like a master rewarding a servant—it's the epitome of inequality and lack of freedom. It represents the wealthy and powerful looking down on the working class, a humiliation and mockery of their labor. He made money with his own hands and earned every cent of it—he didn't need anyone's charity.
At that moment, you had to admit, the Americans really had a certain spirit to them.
Twelve years earlier, Pennsylvania even considered proposing a law to classify tipping as a criminal act, on the grounds that it was a gross insult to the dignity of laborers. Although the bill didn't pass, the sentiment reflected a widely shared social view—at that time, six states in the eastern U.S. had attempted to legislate against tipping.
Unfortunately, the outbreak of World War I shifted everyone's attention to the war effort, and many of these proposals were shelved in favor of national priorities.
Later on, capitalist bosses deliberately twisted the narrative, turning tipping into something "natural" and "justified." What should've been their responsibility to pay proper wages to employees was now offloaded onto customers through moral blackmail. They paid meager wages—or sometimes no wages at all—expecting patrons to make up the difference.
Shameless!
What should've been a conflict between employers and workers was now shifted onto customers and service workers. Even more frustratingly, some people—either stupid or malicious—still defended this twisted system.
The two of them carried their luggage into the hotel. It wasn't a fancy place, but at least there was a doorman to open the door. He even offered to help with the bags, which they politely declined.
After checking in, the day was basically over. Big cities really did have their perks—the hotel had all the expected amenities. Nyle was particularly satisfied with the bathroom. The shower and bath facilities were no different from those found in later eras.
The hotel also offered room service, though guests could go down to the restaurant as well. Room service came with an extra fee, which was fair enough. Paying for such added services was entirely normal and expected.
Although Frederick had a decent amount of spending money, he knew how to be economical. He wasn't the kind of person who needed everything handed to him.
They went down to the hotel restaurant. In older American hotels, restaurants often had a central dance floor with a small performance stage nearby. These spaces were convenient for banquets or social events. In prosperous times, people loved singing and dancing, so this setup was quite common.
Tonight, though, there was no dancing—just five musicians playing something Nyle couldn't recognize. He didn't have much musical talent or appreciation. The two of them just chatted as they waited. A waiter brought them menus and poured them each a glass of water.
Americans usually had hearty dinners, especially in hotels where the menu was much more diverse than, say, a train's dining car.
This diversity was closely tied to Pittsburgh's geographic location—at the confluence of the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers, which form the Ohio River. After the Pennsylvania Canal was completed in 1837 and the railroad arrived in 1851, the city quickly became a major transport hub.
With such convenient logistics, all kinds of delicacies from different regions flowed into the city. If you could afford it, you could get anything you wanted. Refrigeration and freezing technology had already matured by this point, and with the development of aviation, even ingredients from Europe or Asia could be preserved and shipped to America—the only difference was the cost.
Tonight, without the need to socialize or share a table, they kept dinner simple. Frederick was more focused on Pittsburgh's industrial situation than the food, so he ate quickly and went back to do some planning.
Nyle, on the other hand, wasn't worried. He'd already withdrawn all the family money and was standing on firm ground. Frederick was the anxious one. Nyle even had the leisure to enjoy a nice bath. The hotel soap smelled better than the stuff at home—no idea what exotic fragrances or synthetic compounds it contained.
The next morning, they were both up early. Neither man was a late sleeper—Nyle was used to waking early for farm chores, and Frederick needed to get up to collect rent and head to the administrative committee. Both were busy people, with no room for laziness in their lives.
Breakfast was simple—bread, jam, and milk mixed with coffee. It was part of the hotel's service and could be delivered to the room. For long-term guests like Nyle, mornings didn't leave much time to sit down and eat slowly.
It was similar to modern-day Italy, where working people often drink their morning coffee standing at a bar and rush off. Only tourists or retirees had the time to sit, sip coffee, eat a croissant, read the paper, and enjoy life.
Naturally, standing customers only paid for the coffee. Sit-down service came with an additional fee.
The waiter delivered breakfast, and the room cleaner entered as well. Whether or not to change bed sheets was up to the guest, but the hotel also offered complimentary laundry for dirty clothes. Shirts and trousers from the day before would be collected, ironed, and returned.
Perhaps realizing that the waiter and cleaning lady were part of the working class—and might hold useful information—Frederick took out two fifty-cent coins and handed one to each of them, saying he had a favor to ask.
Initially, they hesitated—wanting the money but also resisting it out of pride. Once they learned there was an actual task involved, they accepted it with peace of mind. The cleaning lady asked whether they needed shoe polishing or wanted to buy clothes—she knew the right people and could guarantee good service.
The waiter, holding the coffee pot, eagerly offered to refill Frederick's cup. He asked whether they needed help booking train tickets or hiring a car for the day—he had his own connections.
But to their surprise, Frederick took out a notebook and began asking about their wages, work hours, and recent guest occupancy rates.
These were all public matters—aside from occupancy data, most things could be asked of anyone. The cleaning lady answered quickly and even added a lot of detail: fewer diners lately, stricter inspections on kitchen waste, and so on.
Excellent!