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Title: Increasing Human Efficiency in Business

Author: Walter Dill Scott

Release date: May 1, 1998 [eBook #1319]
Most recently updated: April 2, 2015

Language: English

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INCREASING HUMAN
EFFICIENCY IN BUSINESS
A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF BUSINESS

BY

WALTER DILL SCOTT

AUTHOR OF ``THE THEORY OF ADVERTISING,'' ``THE
PSYCHOLOGY OF ADVERTISING,'' ``THE PSYCHOLOGY OF
PUBLIC SPEAKING,'' ``INFLUENCING MEN IN BUSINESS''

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. THE POSSIBILITY OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY……1 II.
IMITATION AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN
EFFICIENCY………………………………..26 III. COMPETITION AS A MEANS OF
INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY………………………………..48 IV. LOYALTY AS A
MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY………………………………..75 V.
CONCENTRATION AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN
EFFICIENCY………………………….104 VI. WAGES AS A MEANS OF INCREASING
HUMAN EFFICIENCY……………………………….132 VII. PLEASURE AS A MEANS OF
INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY……………………………….165 VIII. THE LOVE OF
THE GAME AND EFFICIENCY………..186 IX. RELAXATION AS A MEANS OF
INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY……………………………….204 X. THE RATE OF
IMPROVEMENT IN EFFICIENCY…………223 XI. PRACTICE PLUS
THEORY……………………….254 XII. MAKING EXPERIENCE AN ASSET: JUDGMENT
FORMATION………………………………..276 XIII. CAPITALIZING EXPERIENCE:
HABIT FORMATION……303 <p v>

INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY IN BUSINESS
CHAPTER I

THE POSSIBILITY OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

THE modern business man is the true heir of the old magicians. Every
thing he touches seems to increase ten or a hundredfold in value and
usefulness. All the old methods, old tools, old instruments have yielded to
his transforming spell or else been discarded for new and more effective
substitutes. In a thousand industries the profits of to-day are wrung from the
wastes or unconsidered trifles of yesterday.

The only factor which has withstood this wizard touch is man himself.
Development of the instruments of production and distribution has been so
great it can hardly be <p 1> <p 2> measured: the things themselves have
been so changed that few features of their primitive models have been
retained.

Our railroad trains, steamships, and printing presses preserve a likeness
more apparent than actual. Our telephones, electric lights, gas engines, and
steam turbines, our lofty office buildings and huge factories crowded with
wonderful automatic machinery are creations of the generation of business
men and scientists still in control of them.

By comparison the increase in human efficiency during this same period
(except where the worker is the slave of the machine, compelled to keep
pace with it or lose his place) has been insignificant.

Reasons for this disproportion are not lacking. The study of the physical
antedates the study of the mental always. In the history of the individual as
well as of nations, knowledge of the psychical has dragged far behind
mastery of tangible objects. We come in contact with our physical
environment and adjust ourselves to it long before we begin to <p 7> study
the *acts by which we have been able to control objects around us.

It was inevitable, therefore, that attention should have been concentrated
upon the material and mechanical side of production and distribution.
Results there were so tangible, so easily figured. For example, if the speed
of a drill or the strokes of a punch press were multiplied, the increase would
be easily recognized. The whole country, too, was absorbed in invention, in
the development of tools to accomplish what had always required hand
labor. The effort was not so much to increase the efficiency of the
individual worker— though many wise and far-sighted employers essayed

studies and experiments with varying success—as to displace the human
factor altogether.

As the functions and limitations of machinery have become clearer in
recent years, business men have generally recognized the importance of the
human factor in making and marketing products. Selecting and handling
men is of much more significance to-day <p 4> than ever before in the
history of the world —the more so as organizations have increased in size
and scope and the individual employee is farther removed from the head
and assigned greater responsibilities.

It is not a difficult task to build and equip a factory, to choose and stock a
store. The problems of power and its transmission come nearer solution
every day. Physics and chemistry have revealed the secrets of raw materials.
For any given service, the manufacturer can determine the cheapest and
most suitable metal, wood, or fabric which will satisfy his requirements,
and the most economical method of treating it.

Of the elements involved in production or distribution, the human factor
is to-day the most serious problem confronting the business man. The
individual remains to be studied, trained, and developed—to be brought up
to the standard of maximum results already reached by materials and
processes.

Few employers can gather a force of effi- <p 5> cient workers and keep
them at their best. Not only is it difficult to select the right men but it is
even harder to secure top efficiency after they are hired. Touching this,
there will be no dispute. Experts in shop management go even farther. F. W.
Taylor, who has made the closest and most scientific study, perhaps, of
actual and potential efficiency among workers, declares that:—

``A first-class man can, in most cases, do from two to four times as much
as is done on the average.''

``This enormous difference,'' Mr. Taylor goes on to say, ``exists in all the
trades and branches of labor investigated, from pick- and-shovel men all the
way up the scale to machinists and other skilled workmen. The multiplied
output was not the product of a spurt or a period of overexertion; it was
simply what a good man could keep up for a long term of years without
injury to his health, become happier, and thrive under.''

Ask the head of any important business what is the first qualification of a
foreman <p 6> or manager, and he will tell you ``ability to handle men.''

Men who know how to get maximum results out of machines are
common; the power to get the maximum of work out of subordinates or out
of yourself is a much rarer possession.

Yet this power is not necessarily a sixth sense or a fixed attribute of
personality. It is based on knowledge of the workings of the other man's
mind, either intuitive or acquired. It is the purpose of this and succeeding
chapters to consider some of the aspects of human nature that can be turned
to advantage in the cultivation of individual efficiency and the elimination
of lost motion and wasted effort.

In a thousand instances, in factory and market place, unrecognized use
has been made of the principles of psychology by business men to influence
other men and to attain their ends.

For the science of psychology is in respect to certain data merely
common sense, the wisdom of experience, analyzed, formulated, and
codified. <p 7> It has taken its place, alongside physics and chemistry, as
the ally and employee of trade and industry.

The time has come when a man's knowledge of his business, if the larger
success is to be won, must embrace an understanding of the laws which
govern the thinking and acting of the men who make and sell his products
as well as those others who buy and consume them.

The achievements of the human mind and the human body seem to many
to be out of the range of possible improvement through application of any
science which deals with these human activities. Muscular strength and
mental efficiency seem to be fixed quantities not subject to increase or
improvement.

The contention here supported, however, is that human efficiency is a
variable quantity which increases and decreases according to law. By the
application of known physical laws the telephone and the telegraph have
supplanted the messenger boy. By the laws of psychology applied to
business equally astounding improvements are being and will be secured.
<p 8>

Employers sometimes find that their men are not working well, that they
loaf and kill time on every possible occasion. The men are not trying and
are indifferent to results. Under such circumstances a new foreman, the
dismissal of the poorer workmen, modification of the wage scale or method
of payment, or some other device may correct the evil and induce the men
to exert themselves.

Again, the men are working industriously and may feel that an increase
in output would be injurious to health or even impossible. They think they
are doing their best; while the employer himself may feel that he is
achieving but little, although he assumes that he is doing as much as it is
wise to attempt. For instance, Mr. Taylor, in his studies, found that both
employers and men had only a vague conception of what constituted a full
day's work for a first-class man. The good workmen knew they could do

more than the average; but refused to believe when, after close observation
and careful timing of the ele- <p 9> ments of each operation, they were
shown that they could accomplish twice or three times as much as their
customary tasks.

Actual instances prove that great increase of work and results can be
secured by outside stimulus and by conscious effort.

If there is one place where the limit of exertion can be counted upon, it is
in an inter- collegiate athletic contest. While taking part in football games, I
frequently observed that my team would be able to push the opposing team
halfway across the field. Then the tables would be turned and my team
would give ground. At one moment one team would seem to possess much
superior physical strength to the other; the next moment the equilibrium
would be changed apparently without cause. Often, however, the weaker
team would rally in response to the captain's coaching. On the field a player
frequently finds himself unable to exert himself. His greatest effort is
necessary to force himself to work. In such a mental condition a vigorous
and enthusiastic appeal from the coach may <p 10> supply the needed
stimulus and stir him to sudden display of all his strength.

I recently conducted a series of experiments on college athletes to
determine whether coaching could actually increase a man's strength when
he was already trying his ``best,'' and whether he could continue to work
after he was ``completely exhausted.'' I put each man at work on machines
which allowed him to exert himself to his utmost and measured his
accomplishment. While he was thus employed, the coach began urging him
to increase his exertion. Ordinarily the increase was marked—sometimes as
much as fifty per cent.

Again, when the man had exhausted himself without coaching, the extra
demand would be made on him; usually he was able to continue, even

though without the coaching he had been unable to do any more. There was,
of course, a point of exhaustion at which the coaching ceased to be
effective.

The tests proved conclusively that when a man is doing what he believes
to be his best, he is still <p 11> able to do better; when he is completely
exhausted, he is, under proper stimulus, able to continue.

Before a horse is started in a race it is vigorously exercised, ``warmed
up.'' To the uninitiated this process seems so strenuous as to defeat its
purpose by wearing out the strength of the horse. Every horseman knows,
however, that the animal cannot attain top speed till after it has undergone
this severe discipline.

In training for a contest an athlete usually takes long runs. Soon after the
start he feels weary and exhausted, but, by disregarding this feeling and
continuing to run, a sudden change comes over him commonly known as
``getting his second wind.''

Thus the runner feels wave upon wave of exhaustion followed by waves
of invigoration. Had he stopped when he first began to tire, he never would
have known of his wonderful reserve fund of strength which can be drawn
upon only by passing through the feeling of exhaustion. He seems to be
able to tap deeper and deeper reservoirs of strength. <p 12>

Many men have never discovered their reserve stores of strength because
they have formed the fixed habit of quitting at the first access of weariness.

Thus they never become conscious of the wonderful resources which
might be used if they were willing to disregard the trifling wave of
weariness.

Our best energies are not on the surface and are not available without
great exertion. We have to warm up and get our second wind before we are
capable of our best physical or mental accomplishments. All our muscular
and psychical processes are dependent upon the activity of the nervous
system. This activity seems to be at its best only after repeated and vigorous
stimulation and after it has reached down to profound and widely
distributed centers.

Most of us never know of our possible achievements because we have
never warmed up and got our second wind in our business or professional
affairs.

When an individual succeeds in tapping his <p 13> reserve energies,
others marvel at the tremendous tasks he accomplishes. They judge in terms
of superficial energy, and for such the results would, of course, be
impossible, even though many of the admiring spectators could actually
equal or excel the deed.

Consider for a moment the work achieved by Mr. Edward Payson Weston
who recently walked the entire distance from New York to San Francisco
without halt or rest in one hundred and four days. Throughout the entire
journey Mr. Weston covered about fifty miles daily, once attaining the
remarkable distance of eighty-seven miles in twenty-four hours. Though
Mr. Weston is seventy years of age, at the close of the walk he seemed to be
relatively free from exhaustion and undaunted in spirit.

The work accomplished by such men as Gladstone and Roosevelt is
incomprehensible to most of us who have never undertaken more than puny
tasks. These men retain their strength and in no way seem to be
undermining their health by the accomplishment of their <p 14> Herculean
labors. Body and mind seem to respond to the demands made upon them.
Their periods of sleep and their vacations seem to be no more than the

hours and days of rest required by those of us who accomplish infinitely
less.

No need, however, to go beyond the field of business or industry to find
men whose super-energy has carried them to epochial discoveries or feats of
organization. The invention of the incandescent lamp by Edison is said to
have been accomplished, for instance, only after forty-eight hours'
continuous concentration on the final problem of finding the right carbon
filament and determining the proper degree of vacuum in the inclosing
bulb. Months of experiment and research had gone before; eighteen hours a
day in the laboratory had been no uncommon thing for the inventor and his
assistants, but in the last strenuous grapple with success his own physical
and mental powers were alone equal to the strain. Not once during the two
days and nights did he rest or sleep or take his attention <p 15> from the
successive tests which led up to the assembling of the lamp which lights the
world's work and play.

The steel blade that is used seems to last as long as the one which is
allowed to lie idle. The wearing out in the one case does not seem to be
more destructive than the rusting out in the other.

We have a choice between wearing out and rusting out. Most of us
unwittingly have chosen the rusting process.

This, indeed, may be said to be Edison's regular method of work, as it is
the method of many other men who have accomplished great things in
science and industry. Both mind and body have been trained and
accustomed to exertions which seem quite impossible to ordinary
individuals.

Many persons find that increased intellectual activity results in less
fatigue and greater achievements. As a student I did my best work and

enjoyed it most the year I carried the greatest number of courses and
assumed the most outside duties. In my <p 16> capacity as adviser to
college students I find many who are able to accomplish thirty per cent
more work than is expected of college students but fail to do equally well
the regular amount. There are others who can carry the regular amount but
not more without injury to their health.

College grades afford a means of recording intellectual efficiency
directed toward particular problems. With no apparent change in bodily
conditions the same student frequently increases his efficiency a hundred
per cent. The increase seldom has an injurious effect on health, but is
merely evidence of the fact that he has suddenly wakened up and is
applying energies which before were undiscovered. A slow walk for a single
mile leaves many persons ``dragged out'' and exhausted, but a brisk walk of
the same or a greater distance results in invigoration and recuperation.
Likewise the droning over an intellectual task results in exhaustion, while
vigorous treatment whets the appetite for additional problems.

This swift, decisive attack on problems was <p 17> the method of
Edward H. Harriman, who crowded into ten years the railroad achievements
of an extraordinary lifetime. Decisions involving expenditure of many
millions of dollars were arrived at so quickly as to seem off-hand, even
reckless. In reality, they were the products of brief periods of intense
application in which he reviewed all the conditions and elements involved,
and forged his conclusion, as it were, at white heat. Back of each decision
was exact and thorough knowledge of the physical and traffic conditions of
each of his railroads. In the case of the Union Pacific, at least, he gained
this mastery by patient, intensive study of each grade and curve and freight-
producing town on its 1800 miles of track.

The inhabitant of the torrid zone upon moving to a northern climate is
severely affected by the chill of the atmosphere. The discomfort may last
for days or months, but he becomes acclimated and is able to withstand the
cold without serious discomfort. Likewise the inhabitant of a cool climate
feels exhausted <p 18> by the heat of the torrid zone. In some cases he is
unable to accustom himself to the change, but in many instances the
acclimatization follows rapidly and leaves the individual well fortified
against the dangers of excessive heat.

Persons who have accustomed themselves to stimulants of any sort are
completely depleted if they are unable to get the special form to which they
have been accustomed. This holds true for tobacco, morphine, coffee, and
many other forms of stimulants actually indulged in by many persons. If
they are able to resist the temptation and deny themselves the stimulant, the
period of exhaustion soon disappears and the subject may even lose all
craving for that which formerly seemed essential to his very existence.

The quantity which we eat is partly a matter of habit. There is doubtless a
minimum of nourishment which is absolutely necessary for health and
strength. On the other hand there is doubtless a maximum limit which
cannot be passed without serious injury. Our bodies seem to demand the
amount of <p 19> food to which we have accustomed them. If we should
increase the amount ten or twenty per cent, we might, for a while, feel some
discomfort from it, but soon our system would begin to demand the greater
quantity and we could not again return to the lighter diet without a period of
discomfort. Likewise the amount of food which most of us consume could
be reduced materially with no permanent injury or reduction of energy or
danger to health. Following the reduction would be a period of discomfort
and probable reduction of weight. This period would last for but a relatively
short time, after which we would again strike a physiological equilibrium
such that an increase of food would not be craved nor be of any benefit.

Any great increase in the amount of physical or mental work results in a
feeling of weariness which is usually sufficient to cause us to return to our
habitual amount of expenditure of energy. Our system is, however,
wonderful in its capacity to adjust itself to changed demands which come
upon it, whether these <p 20> demands be in the nature of changes in
temperature, in stimulants, in nourishment, or in the expenditure of physical
or mental energy.

There is, of course, a limit to possible human achievements. There are
resources which may not be exhausted without serious injury to health.
Those who accomplish most, however, compare favorably with others in
length of days and retention of health.

While overwork has its place among the things which reduce energy and
shorten life, it is my opinion that overwork is not so dangerous or so
common as is ordinarily supposed.

In not a few industries, the dominant house or firm has for its head a man
past seventy who still keeps a firm and vigorous grip on the business: men
like Richard T. Crane of Chicago, E. C. Simmons of St. Louis, and James J.
Hill, whose careers are records of intense industry and absorbed devotion to
the work in hand.

Many persons confuse overwork with what is really underwork
accompanied with worry or unhygienic practices. <p 21>

A recent writer on sociology calls attention to the fact that nervous
prostrations and general breakdowns are most common among those
members of society who achieve the least and who may be regarded as
parasites. Exercise both of brain and of muscle is necessary for growth and
for health.

Those nations which expend the most energy are probably the ones
among whom longevity is greatest and the mortality rate the lowest. In the
city of Chicago there are many conditions adverse to health of body and
mind, yet the city is famous for its relatively low mortality as a parallel fact.
It is also affirmed that the average Chicago man works longer hours and
actually accomplishes more than the average man elsewhere. This excess in
the expenditure of energy—in so far as it is wisely spent—may be one of
the reasons for the excellent health record of the city.

In every walk of life we see that the race is not to the swift nor the battle
to the strong. We all know men clearly of secondary ability who
nevertheless occupy high positions in <p 22> business and state. We are
acquainted also with men of excellent native endowment who still have
never risen above the ranks of mediocrity.

Human efficiency is not measured in terms of muscular energy nor of
intellectual grasp. It is dependent upon many factors other than native
strength of mind and body.

The attitude which one takes toward life in general and toward his calling
in particular is of more importance than native ability. The man with
concentration, or the power of continued enthusiastic application, will
surpass a brilliant competitor if this latter is careless and indifferent towards
his work. Many who have accomplished great things in business, in the
professions, and in science have been men of moderate ability. For
testimony of this fact take this striking quotation from Charles Darwin.

``I have no great quickness of apprehension or wit, which is so
remarkable in some clever men,'' he writes. ``I am a poor critic. . . . My
power to follow a long and purely abstract <p 23> train of thought is very
limited; and therefore I never could have succeeded with metaphysics or
mathematics. My memory is extensive, yet hazy; it suffices to make me

cautious by vaguely telling me that I have observed or read something
opposed to the conclusion which I am drawing, or on the other hand in
favor of it. So poor in one sense is my memory, that I have never been able
to remember for more than a few days a single date or a line of poetry. I
have a fair share of invention, and of common sense or judgment, such as
every fairly successful lawyer or doctor must have, but not, I believe, in any
higher degree.''

This is presumably an honest statement of fact, and in addition it should
be remembered that Darwin was always physically weak, that for forty
years he was practically an invalid and able to work for only about three
hours a day. In these few hours he was able to accomplish more, however,
than other men of apparently superior ability who were able to work long
hours daily for many <p 24> years. Darwin made the most of his ability and
increased his efficiency to its maximum.

For a parallel in business, Cyrus H. McCormick might be named. The
inventor of the reaper and builder of the first American business which
covered the world was not a man of extraordinary intellect, wit, or
judgment. He had, however, the will and power to focus his attention on a
single question until the answer was evolved. Again and again, his
biographers tell us, he pursued problems which eluded him far into the
night and he was frequently found asleep at his desk the morning following.
When roused, instead of seeking rest, he addressed his task again and
usually overcame his obstacle before leaving it.

All these considerations point to one conclusion. It is quite certain, then,
that most of us are whiling away our days and occupying positions far
below our possibilities. A corollary to this statement is Mr. Taylor's
conclusion that ``few of our best-organized industries have attained the
maximum output of first-class men.'' <p 25>

Not to give too wide application to his discovery that the average day's
work is only half or less than half what a first-class man can do, it is more
than probable that the average man could, with no injury to his health,
increase his efficiency fifty per cent.

We are making use of only part of our existing mental and physical
powers and are not taxing them beyond their strength. Increased
accomplishments, and heightened efficiency would cultivate and develop
them, would waken the latent powers and tap hidden stores of energy within
us, would widen the fields in which we labor and would open up to us new
and wider horizons of honorable and profitable activity.

In succeeding chapters will be described specific methods, many of
which are employed by individual firms, but which could be utilized by
other business men, to insure their own efficiency and that of their
employees. The experiences of many successful houses will be linked to the
laws of psychology to point the way that will bring about greater results
from men.

CHAPTER II
IMITATION

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

TWENTY years ago the head of an industry now in the million-a-month
class sat listening to his ``star'' salesman. The latter, in the first enthusiasm
of discovery and creation, was telling how he had developed the company's
haphazard selling talk and had taken order after order with a standard
approach, demonstration, and summary of closing arguments. To prove the
effectiveness of ``the one best way,'' he challenged his employer to act as a

customer, staged the little drama he had arranged, secured admissions of
savings his machine would make, ultimately cornered the other, and sold
him.

``That's great,'' the owner declared the in- <p 26> <p 27> stant he had
surrendered to the salesman's logic. ``If we can get all our agents to learn
and use this new method of yours, we'll double our business in three years.''

Then followed discussion of the means by which the knowledge could be
spread.

``I've got it,'' the manager announced at last. ``I'll telegraph five or six
men to come in''—he named the agents within a night's ride of the factory—
``and you can show them how you sold fifteen machines last week.

``We could take down your talk in shorthand and send it to them, but that
wouldn't do the business. I want them to watch you sell, to study how you
make your points, how you introduce yourself, how you get your man's
attention, how you bring out his objections and meet them, how you lead up
to the signing minute, and show him where to sign. *What you say is about
half the trick: *how you say it is the convincing part—the thing the slowest
man in the force by watching you can learn more quickly than the smartest
could work out at home.'' <p 28>

The result of that conference was one of the earliest organized training
schools for salesmen in the country. It was an unconscious, but none the
less certain, utilization of the instinct of *imitation for increasing the
efficiency in employees. Since then, business has borrowed many well-
recognized principles from psychology and pedagogy and adapted them to
the same end.

Many important houses have grafted the school upon their organizations
and *teach not only raw and untrained employees, but provide instruction
calculated to make workmen and clerks masters of their jobs and also to fit
them for advancement to higher and more productive planes. Teaching is by
example rather than by precept, just as it was in the old apprentice system.

The newer method uses even more than the older a perfect example of the
process and the product for the learner's imitation and makes them the
basis of the instruction.

No man was made to live alone. For an individual, existence entirely
independent of <p 29> other members of the race is the conception of a
dreamer; apart from others one would fail to become *human. Modern
psychology has abandoned the individualistic and adopted the social point
of view. We no longer think of *imitation as a characteristic only of
animals, children, and weak-minded folk.

We have come to see that imitation is the greatest factor in the education
of the young and a continuous process with all of us. The part of wisdom,
then, is to utilize this power from which we cannot escape, by setting up a
perfect copy for imitation.

The child brought up by a Chinaman imitates the sounds he hears, hence
speaks Chinese; brought up in an American home, English is his speech—
ungrammatical or correct according to the usage of his companions. If one
boy in a group walks on stilts or plays marbles, the others follow his
example. If a social leader rides in an automobile, wears a Panama hat, or
plays golf, all the members of this circle are restless till they have the same
experience. The same <p 30> phenomenon is seen in the professions and in
business. If one bank decides to erect a building for its own use, other banks
in the city begin to consult architects. If one manufacturer or distributor in a
given field adopts a new policy in manufacturing or in extending his trade

zone, his rivals immediately consider plans of a similar sort. Partly, of
course, this act is defensive. In the main, however, imitation and emulation
are at the bottom of the move.

For the sake of clearness, in studying acts of imitation we separate them
into two classes—*voluntary imitation (also called conscious imitation) and
*instinctive imitation (also known as *suggestive imitation).

A peculiar signature may strike my fancy so that consciously and
deliberately I may try to imitate it. This is a clear case of voluntary
imitation. Threading crowded city streets, I see a man crossing at a
particular point and voluntarily follow in his path. In learning a new skating
figure I watch an expert attentively and try to repeat his perform- <p 31>
ance. In writing letters or advertisements or magazine articles, I analyze the
work of other men and consciously imitate what seems best. Or I observe a
fellow-laborer working faster than I, and forthwith try to catch and hold his
pace.

The contagion of yawning, on the other hand, is instinctive imitation.
Also when in a crowd during the homeward evening rush, we instinctively
quicken our pace though there may be no reason for hurry.

For precisely similar reasons, a ``loafer'' or a careless or inefficient
workman will lower the efficiency or slow up the production of the men
about him, no matter how earnest or industrious their natural habits. Night
work by clerks, also, is taken by some office managers to indicate a slump
in industry during the day. To correct this the individuals who are drags on
the organization are discovered, and either are revitalized or discharged.

I have seen more than one machine shop where production could have
been materially raised <p 32> by the simple expedient of weeding out the
workmen who were satisfied with a mere living wage earned by piecework,

thereby setting a dilatory example to the rest; and replacing them with fresh
men ambitious to earn all they could, who would have been imitated by the
others.

In these instances it is assumed that the imitation is not voluntary, but
that we unconsciously imitate whatever actions happen to catch our
attention. For the negative action, the ``slowing down'' process, we have the
greater affinity simply because labor or exertion is naturally distasteful. One
such influence or example, therefore, may sway us more than a dozen
positive impulses towards industry.

Imitation thus broadly considered is seen to be of the utmost importance
in every walk of life. The greatest and most original genius is in the main a
creature of imitation. By imitation he reaches the level of knowledge and
skill attained by others; and upon this foundation builds his structure of
original and creative thought, experiment, and achieve- <p 33> ment.
Furthermore he does not imitate at random; but concentrates his activity on
those things and persons in the line of his pursuits.

Among my associates are both industrious and shiftless individuals. I
instinctively imitate the actions of all those with whom I come in contact;
but if I am sufficiently ambitious, I will consciously imitate the acts of the
industrious. This patterning after energetic models will render me more
active and efficient than would have been possible for me without such
examples.

Imitation, accordingly, is an imperative factor both in self-development
and in the control of groups of individuals. Knowing that I instinctively
imitate all sorts of acts, I must take care that only the right sort shall catch
my attention.

And since imitation is a most effective aid in development, I must
provide myself with the best models. To reduce my tendency to idleness or
procrastination I must avoid the companionship of the shiftless. To acquire
<p 34> ease and accuracy in the use of French, I must consort with masters
of that tongue.

In handling others, the same rule holds.

To profit from the instinctive imitation of my men, I must control their
environment in shop or office and make sure that examples of energy and
efficiency are numerous enough to catch their attention and establish, as it
were, an atmosphere of industry in the place.

There are instances in which it would be to the mutual interest of
employer and employee to increase the speed of work, but conditions may
limit or forbid the use of pacemakers. In construction work and in some of
the industries where there are minute subdivision of operations and
continuity of processes this method of increasing efficiency is very
commonly applied. In many factories, however, such an effort to ``speed
up'' production might stir resentment, even among the pieceworkers, and
have an effect exactly opposite to that desired. The alternative, of course, is
for the employer to secure unconscious pacemakers by providing incentives
<p 35> for the naturally ambitious men in the way of a premium or bonus
system or other reward for unusual efficiency.

To take advantage of their conscious or voluntary imitation, workpeople
must be provided with examples which appeal to them as admirable and
inspire the wish to emulate them. A common application of this principle is
seen in the choice of department heads, foremen, and other bosses.
Invariably these win promotion by industry, skill, and efficiency greater
than that displayed by their fellows, or by all-round mastery of their trades

which enable them to show their less efficient mates how any and all
operations should be conducted.

This focusing of attention upon individuals worthy of imitation has been
carried much farther by various companies. Through their ``house
organs''—weekly or monthly papers published primarily for circulation
within the organization—they make record of every incident reflecting
unusual skill, initiative, or personal power in an individual member of the
organization. <p 36>

A big order closed, a difficult contract secured, a complex or delicate
operation performed in less than the usual time, a new personal record in
production, the invention of an unproved method or machine—whatever the
achievement, it is described and glorified, its author praised and held up for
emulation. This, indeed, is one of the methods by which the larger sales
organizations have obtained remarkable results.

Graphically told, the story of an important sale with the salesman's
picture alongside makes double use of the instinct of imitation. It suggests
forcibly that every man in the field can duplicate the achievement and tells
how he can do it.

Frequently, examples of initiative and efficiency are borrowed from
outside organizations. ``Carrying a message to Garcia'' has long been a
business synonym for immediate and effective execution of orders. One big
company, employing thousands of mechanics and developing all its
executives and skilled experts from boys and men within the or- <p 37>
ganization, has printed in its house organ studies of all the great American
and English inventors from Stephenson and Fulton to Edison and
Westinghouse. These histories emphasize the facts that these men were self-
taught and bench-trained, and that their achievements can be imitated by
every intelligent mechanic in the organization.

In teaching and learning by imitation certain modifying facts are to be
kept constantly in mind. We tend to imitate everything which catches our
attention, but certain things appeal more powerfully than others.

The acts of those whom I admire are particularly contagious, but I remain
indifferent to the acts of those who are uninteresting. Acts showing a skill to
which I aspire are immediately imitated, while acts representing stages of
development from which I have escaped are less likely to be imitated. We
imitate the acts of hearty, jovial individuals more than the acts of others.
This point cannot be pressed too far since a surly and selfish individual
often seems to corrupt a whole <p 38> group. Also it is not always the acts
which I admire that are imitated. If I am frequently with a lame person, I am
in danger of acquiring a limp; one who stutters is clearly injurious to my
freedom of speech; round-shouldered friends may at first cause me to
straighten up, but soon I am in danger of a droop.

That imitation is merely something to be avoided by teachers, employers,
and foremen is an idea soon banished when the importance and complexity
of the process is comprehended. In teaching we find precept inferior to
example wherever the latter is possible. Particularly in teaching all sorts of
acts of skill the imitation of perfect models is the first resort. In business,
however, insufficient consideration has been given to the possibilities of
imitation in increasing human efficiency.

In the preparation of this article representative business men who had
been especially successful in dealing with employees were asked the
following questions:— <p 39>

In increasing the efficiency of your employees do you utilize imitation by

(1) placing efficient workmen where they may be imitated by the less
efficient?

(2) having the men visit highly efficient establishments?

(3) bringing to the attention of your men the lives of successful men and
the work of successful houses?

(4) bringing frequently to the attention of the men model methods of
work?

(5) Have you observed any pronounced instance of increase or decrease
in the work of a department due to imitation?

The men interviewed took a decided interest in the subject, and their
answers contained much of general value. Some admitted that they had
never made any conscious effort to utilize imitation as implied in the first
four questions. Many others had made particular use of one or more of the
methods. A few of the firms interviewed had employed all four methods
with entire satisfaction. <p 40>

The following is a fair representative of the answers. It is the response of
a very successful general manager of a railroad:—

``I beg to give you below the answer to the questions which you have
asked:—

``1. The superintendent and foremen in our shops are the most efficient
we can find. They are imitated, and thus influence the less efficient.

``2. We have the heads of our departments visit other shops to see how
they are progressing in the same line. If they notice anything that is better
than what we have as to the output of work, we imitate it by following their
methods.

``3. We have not made a practice of bringing to the attention of our
employees the lives of successful men or the work of successful houses.

``4. We keep standard models of the different kinds of work in plain view
of the men. If there is any doubt in their minds, they can study these
models.

``5. We have observed a pronounced in- <p 41> crease in the work of our
shops, due to imitation, since in lining up our organization we put the most
competent men we have at the head. Their influence over the men in their
charge increases the work, as there is no question that a good leader is
imitated by the men, and the company is benefited by this imitation.''

Judged by the results of the investigation the most common use of
imitation is in the training or ``breaking in'' of new employees. The
accepted plan is to pick out the most expert and intelligent workman
available and put the new man in his charge.

By observing the veteran and imitating his actions, working gradually
from the simpler operations to the more complex, the beginner is able to
master technic and methods in the shortest possible time. The psychological
moment for such instruction, of course, is the first day or the first week.
New men learn much more readily than those who have become habituated
to certain methods or tasks; not having had time or opportunity to experi-
<p 42> ment and learn wrong methods, they have nothing to unlearn in
acquiring the right. They fall into line at once and adopt the stride and the
manner of work approved by the house.

This is the specific process by which the most advanced industrial
organizations develop machine hands and initiate skilled mechanics into
house methods and requirements. It has been largely used by public service
corporations—street-car motormen and conductors, for instance, learning

their duties almost entirely by observation of experienced men either in
formal schools or on cars in actual operation. Many large commercial
houses give new employees regular courses in company methods before
intrusting work to them; the instructor is some highly efficient specialist,
who shows the beginner *how to get output and quality with the least
expenditure of time and energy. The same method has been adapted by
leading manufacturers of machines, who call their mechanics or assemblers
together at intervals and have the most <p 43> expert among them show
how they conduct operations in which they have attained special skill.

In the training of salesmen imitation has received its widest application
in teaching new men the elements of salesmanship; in showing them how to
make the individual sale; in giving old men the best and newest methods—
all by imitation.

Not only is the recruit to the selling ranks in formal schools given
repeated examples of the most effective ways to approach customers, to
demonstrate the house goods and secure the order; but the more progressive
companies, after this preliminary instruction, assign him to a training
ground where he accompanies one of the company's best salesmen and
merely observes how actual sales are made. Then the new man is sent out
alone; usually he fails to secure as large an order as the house wants. Again
the star salesman takes him in hand, analyzes the student's approach and
demonstration, points out their weaknesses and, going back with the new
man, <p 44> makes the right kind of approach and secures a satisfactory
order. For the beginner this is the most vivid lesson in salesmanship; he
cannot but model his next selling effort on the lines proved so effective.

The use of imitation, however, is carried further. In the monthly or
semiannual district conventions of salesmen which most big organizations
call, the newest and most effective selling methods are staged for the

instruction both of new men and veterans. The district leader in sales, for
example, or the man who has closed an order by a new or unusual argument
is pitted against a salesman equally able, and the whole force sees how the
successful man secured his results.

Educational trips to other factories were employed by several firms to
stimulate mental alertness and the instinct of imitation in their men. These
trips usually supplemented some sort of suggestion system for encouraging
employees to submit to the management ideas for improving methods,
machines, or products.

Cash payments were made for each suggestion <p 45> adopted, quarterly
prizes of ten to fifty dollars were awarded for the most valuable
suggestions; and finally a dozen or a score of the men submitting the best
ideas were sent on a week's tour of observation to other industrial centers
and notable plants. In some instances the expense incurred was
considerable, but the companies considered the money well spent. Not only
were the men making helpful suggestions the very ones who would observe
most wisely and profit most extensively from such educational trips, but
they would bring back to their everyday tasks a new perspective, see them
from a new angle, and frequently offer new suggestions which would more
than save or earn the vacation cost.

Business managers, it was made plain, are coming more and more to
depend upon imitation as one of the great forces in securing a maximum of
efficiency without risking the rupture or rebellion which might follow if the
same efficiency were sought by force or by any method of conscious
compulsion. Tactfully suggested, the examples for imitation will <p 46>
lead men where no amount of argument or reasonable compensation will
drive them. I am therefore led to suggest the following uses of imitation for
increasing the efficiency of the working force.

In breaking in new recruits they should be set to imitate expert workmen
in all the details possible.

Gang foremen and superintendents should always be capable of
``showing how'' for the sake of the men under them.

The better workmen should, where possible, be located so that they will
be observed by the other employees.

Inefficient help should be avoided since the example of the less efficient
should become the model for the larger group.

Educational trips or tours of inspection should be regularly encouraged
for both workmen and superintendents.

The deeds of successful houses should be brought to the attention of
employees.

Where conditions admit, pacemakers should be retained in various
groups to key up the other men. <p 47>

Favorable conditions should be provided for conscious and instinctive
imitation for all the members of the plant.

Persons who are sociable and much liked are imitated more than others,
and if efficient, are particularly valuable; but if inefficient, are especially
detrimental to others.

At the formal and informal meetings of the men of a house or a
department, demonstrations of how to do certain definite things are very
interesting and helpful to all concerned. Demonstrations should be more
common.

CHAPTER III
COMPETITION

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

THIRTY years ago American steel makers were astonishing the world
with new production records. What English ironmasters, intrenched in their
supremacy for centuries, had regarded as a standard week's output for
Bessemer converters, their young rivals in mills about the Great Lakes were
doubling, trebling, and even further increasing. Hardly a month passed
without a new high mark and a shift in possession of the leadership.

To this remarkable increase in efficiency William R. Jones—``Captain
Bill'' Jones as he was familiarly known—contributed more than any other
operating man. He was a genius among executives as well as an inventor <p
48> <p 49> of resource and initiative—a natural leader and handler of men.
When he was asked by the British Iron and Steel Institute in 1881, to
explain the reasons for the amazing development in the United States, he
attributed it to organization spirit of the workmen and the rivalry among the
various mills.

``So long as the record made by a mill stands first,'' he wrote, ``its
workmen are content to labor at a moderate rate. But let it be known that
some other establishment has beaten that record and there is no content
until the rival's record is eclipsed.''

It was on this idea of competition for efficiency—of production as a game
and achievement as a goal—that the wonderful growth of the steel industry
was based.

On the intensive development of this idea by Andrew Carnegie, within
his expanding organization, hinged the tremendous progress and profits of

the Carnegie Company. ``The little boss'' matched furnace against furnace,
mill against mill, superintendent against superintendent. He scanned his
weekly and <p 50> monthly reports not merely for records of output, but
for comparative consumption of ore, fuel, and other supplies, for time and
labor costs in proportion to product.

If a superintendent, foreman, or gang failed to respond to this urging,
failed to get into the race for the famous broom which crowned the stack of
the champion Carnegie mill or furnace, the parallel showing of the other
mills became a club to drive the laggards into line. So intense was the
competition, so sharp the verbal goads applied that Jones, after resigning in
indignation, parodied in sarcastic notes in this manner the Carnegie fashion
of bringing executives to task: ``Puppy dog number three, you have been
beaten by puppy dog number two on fuel. Puppy dog number two, you are
higher on labor than puppy dog number one.''

How effective was this system of pitting man against man, plant against
plant, was shown by the dominant position of the Carnegie Company in the
trade when the Steel Corporation was launched and by the stag- <p 51>
gering value put upon its business. Indirect testimony of the same fact was
given another time by Jones when he refused thousands of dollars in yearly
royalties for the use of his inventions by outside companies, this though the
men who sought them were personal friends and his contract with the
Carnegie Company allowed such licenses. His excuse was eloquent of the
power residing in the Carnegie contest for efficiency and results: leadership
for his charge, the Edgar Thompson works, in output and costs, meant more
to him than money and a chance to help his friends.

The Carnegie system was one of the most comprehensive applications in
business of man's instinct of competition to the work of increasing
individual and organization efficiency.

In the handling of executives it was carried to such extremes as few great
managers would approve to-day. Undeniably, however, the contest idea was
an important influence in the building up of a vast business in relatively
brief time, while the influence on the pace of the whole industry gave the
United States its <p 52> present supremacy in steel and iron. It survives in
the parallel comparisons of records with which the Steel Corporation
measures the efficiency of its units of production and keeps its mill
superintendents to the mark. It is utilized, in some degree and in varying
departments, by hundreds of successful houses.

Let us analyze the facts, the habits of thought, the emotions behind
competition and determine where and how it may be applied to the task of
increasing our own and our employees' efficiency.

The experienced horseman knows that a horse is unable to attain his
greatest speed apart from a pacemaker. The horse needs the stimulus of an
equal to get under way quickly, to strike his fastest gait and to keep it up. In
this particular an athlete in sprinting is like the horse. He is unable by sheer
force of will to run a hundred yards in ten seconds. To achieve it he needs a
competitor who will push him to his utmost effort.

The struggle for existence, one of the main factors in the evolution of
man, has raged most <p 53> fiercely among equals; without it, development
scarcely would have been possible.

So fundamental has been this struggle that the necessity for it has become
firmly established within us. We require it to stimulate us to attain our
highest ends.

As is made evident by a consideration of imitation we are eminently
social creatures. We imitate the acts of those about us. Imitation is,
however, only the first stage of our social relationship. We first imitate and

then compete. I purchase an automobile in imitation of the acts of my
friends, but I compete with them by securing a more powerful or swifter
car. By erecting a new building because some other banker has done so, the
second individual does more than imitate. He competes with the first by
planning to erect a more magnificent structure and on a more commanding
site. Or a great retail store, announcing a ``February sale'' of ``white goods''
or furniture, invariably tries to surpass the bargains offered by rival
establishments. <p 54>

We do indeed imitate and compete with all our associates, but those
whom we recognize as our peers are the ones who stimulate us more to the
instinctive acts of imitation and competition.

Our actual equals stimulate us less than those whom we recognize as the
peers of our ideal selves—of ourselves as we strive and intend to become.
The man on the ladder just above me stirs me irresistibly.

The effect of one individual upon others, then, is not confined to
imitation. There is a constant tendency to vary from and to excel the model.
My devotion to golf is mainly due to he example of some of my friends. My
ambition is to outplay these same friends. Imitation and competition,
apparently antagonistic, are in reality the two expressions for our social
relationships. We first imitate and then attempt to differentiate ourselves
from our companions.

The manufacturer or merchant imitates his competitor, but tries also to
surpass him. Indeed it is a truism that competition is the <p 55> life of
trade. In the shop and in the office, on the road and behind the counter, in
all buying and selling, competition is essential to the greatest success.
Competition, the desire to excel, is universal and instinctive. It gives a zest
to our work that would otherwise be lacking. In every sphere of human
activity competition seems essential for securing the best results.

We assume ordinarily that competition exists only between individuals.
As a matter of fact, a slight degree of competition may be aroused between
a man's present efforts and his previous records.

While not so tense or so compelling as is competition between
individuals, it has the advantage of avoiding the creation of jealousies. In all
the more exciting and stimulating games, rivalry between individuals is a
prominent feature. In golf the game is frequently played without this factor,
the only competition being with previous records or with the mythical
Bogy.

Such competition adds considerable zest <p 56> to the game, and the
same principle is applicable to business. The most compelling rivalry is
between peers; without this, however, it is possible to pit the possibilities of
the present month against the achievements of the previous four weeks or
the past year or even against a hypothetical individual ``bogy.'' This bogy
may be fixed by the executive, and the man induced to compete with it.
Thus the dangers of competition may be minimized and the advantages of
the human instinctive desire for competition be gained.

In the average well-organized business the carrying out of such a plan
would not be difficult. Studying the previous records of his men, a manager
or foreman could determine what each individual bogy should be. The
employee should know just what the *record is that he is competing with,
and that his success or failure would be recorded to his credit or otherwise.
Above all, the bogy must be fair and within the power of the man to
accomplish.

Competition need not be confined to individuals. <p 57> Frequently one
city finds a stimulus in competing with another. Nations compete with one
another. In any organization one section may compete with another.

In an army there may be competition between regiments. Within the
regiment there may be the keenest rivalry between the different companies.
We are such social creatures that we easily identify ourselves with our
block, our street, our town, our social set, our party, our firm, or our
department in the firm. Like teams in any game or sport, these groups may
be rendered self-conscious and thus made units for competition.

It is possible to create such units for competition in business
organizations. In some instances individual employees of one firm are
pitted against those of a competing firm, the contest proving stimulating to
the men in both. In other instances the competition is restricted to the house,
and similar departments or sections are the units.

The closer the parallel between the units and their activities, as in the
Carnegie blast <p 58> furnaces and steel mills, the more interesting and
effective the competition becomes.

This principle has received widest recognition and achieved greatest
success in the sales department. Here individuals are on a footing of
approximate equality or may be given equality by a system of handicaps
based on conditions in their territories. Success has also attended the pitting
of selling districts against each other. These larger competing units work
against bogies of the same character as do the individual ones. The whole
house may be keyed up to surpass previous records or to attain some fixed
standard.

To ascertain to what extent the principle of competition was consciously
employed by business firms and what methods were used to apply it in
increasing the efficiency of the men, a number of successful business firms
were asked the following questions:—

How do you utilize competition in increasing efficiency among your
employees?

(1) Do you regard it as unwise to stimulate competition in any form? <p
59>

(2) Do you encourage men to excel their own records of previous years?

(3) Do you encourage competition between men in the same department?

(4) Do you encourage competition between your own departments?

(5) Do you encourage competition with departments of competing
establishments?

(6) In competition do you make it fair by ``handicapping'' your men?

What reward does the winner receive, e.g.:—

(1) Monetary reward?

(2) Promotion?

(3) Public commendation?

In answers by equally successful managers great diversity of opinion
prevailed. Some men were afraid of all forms of competition.

They believed that co<o:>peration was essential to success and that any
form of competition among the men tended to lessen such co<o:>peration.
Most of the men interviewed believed that competition when wisely
handled is very effective in stimulating the men.

Of course, most firms try in some way to <p 60> encourage their men to
excel their record of previous years. The inquiry developed, however, that a
few are unwilling to employ competition even in this mild form as a means
to increased efficiency. Most of the firms made conscious use of this
principle and were convinced of its potency.

Competition between men in the same department was approved by a
majority of the firms, and its adaptability to the selling department was
especially emphasized. But some of the best houses will permit no such
competition. The diversity in opinion was very pronounced in answering
this question.

As to encouraging competition between departments in the same firm, no
general answer is satisfactory. Organizations differ widely. In many houses
such competition is not practicable; in others it certainly is not to be
encouraged. In many organizations which would admit of such competition
the experiment had not been tried. In others it has become a regular practice
and is looked upon with favor.

In competition between members of the <p 61> same department or
between departments the danger of jealousy and enmity seems to be so real
that the greatest caution has to be observed in managing the contests. When
such caution is exercised, the results are ordinarily reported upon favorably.

As to encouraging competition with departments of rival establishments,
the diversity of business makes general statements un- illuminating. Even
where such a course is possible, some managers reject the practice as
unwise. They believe that it is not best to recognize other houses or to
consider them in this particular. A few firms report that they are able to
stimulate their men successfully in this way, even though the conditions for
such a contest are difficult to handle. Of those who utilize competition a

few houses employ no handicaps to put their men on the same level and
make success equally possible to all.

The principle of handicaps is so manifestly fair that organizers of
contests can hardly afford to neglect this essential to the widest interest and
participation in the competition. <p 62>

If the little man in a country territory doesn't feel that he has a fighting
chance to equal or surpass the man in the big agency, he makes no attempt
to qualify. And the purpose of every contest, of course, is to get every man
into the game.

Touching monetary rewards for the winners, there is practical unanimity
of opinion. The winner should receive a prize in cash or its equivalent.
Usually the effort is to distribute the prizes so that all who excel their
average records receive compensation and recognition for the additional
work. In many instances unusual increases in sales or output are rewarded
by a higher rate of compensation.

That success in contests should influence promotion was generally
agreed. The knowledge and energy shown are indications of capacity to
occupy a better position.

The contest merely reveals such capacity; the promotion might well
follow as part of the prize for the winner or winners.

Public commendation of winners in com- <p 63> petitions is held by
many firms to be bad policy. There is fear that such commendation might
render the participant conceited and unfit for further usefulness. A majority
of firms, however, give the widest possible publicity to such
commendation. This, indeed, is the reward most generally used and
apparently most keenly desired by employees. Reproduction of photographs

of the winners in the house organ with an account of their achievements is
the commonest acknowledgment of their success, though posting the names
of the winners in various parts of the establishment is the method employed
by smaller houses.

Many important houses use competition as part of their regular
equipment for handling and energizing men.

Particularly is this true of manufacturers and distributors of specialties,
patented machines, trade-marked goods and lines, and wholesalers whose
travelers are selling in territories where conditions are generally the same.
Several firms of this sort make con- <p 64> scious and elaborate use of the
instinct of competition in their ordinary scheme of management.

A concrete and typical illustration of its application to selling is afforded
by the experience and the undoubted success of one of the largest specialty
houses which distributes its products direct to the consumer. The sales force
numbers about 500 men, and executives of wide experience declare that the
organization is, of its size, the most efficient in the United States. Analysis
of this company's methods is most illuminating and suggestive because
every phase of the instinct of competition has been exploited to the
advantage of both the house and its employees.

The medium of competition is a series of contests—monthly, quarterly,
even yearly which bring into play all the motives urging individuals to
maximum effort and industry desire to beat bogy, ambition to win in
individual contest with immediate neighbors and against the whole
organization, team spirit in <p 63> the matching of one group of agencies
against another group, and finally organization spirit in the battle of the
whole force to equal or surpass the mark which has been set for it.

The first and basic contest here is that of the individual salesman against
his bogy or ``sales quota.''

This quota, the monthly amount of business which each agency should
produce, has been worked out with great care and has a scientific
foundation. Since the great bulk of sales are made to retail merchants, the
possibilities of each territory are determined by reckoning the total
population of all towns containing three retailers rated by commercial
agencies. For normal months there is a standard quota, a little above the
monthly average of all agencies the previous year, reckoned against their
total urban populations. In ``rush'' months, this quota is advanced from
fifteen to forty per cent, as the judgment of the sales manager dictates. If
general and trade conditions lead him to believe, for instance, that the
month of May should produce <p 66> $1,000,000 in orders, while the sum
of the usual quotas is $800,000, he calls for an over- plus of twenty per
cent. The territory containing one per cent of the total urban population of
the country, as reckoned, would then be expected to make sales equal to
$10,000. This would be the agency quota for the month, and the first and
most important task of the agent would be to secure it.

Because all quotas, both normal and special, are figured on the
productive population of the territories and standings may be calculated by
percentages, it follows that all agents are on terms of equality.

This is essential in a contest for individual leadership as well as in team
or organization matches. For at least eight months of the year, there is such
a competition for the best selling record in the entire force. Variety is given
to these contests and the interest of the men sustained by changing the terms
of the competition. One month the chief prize will be given to the salesman
who secures his quota at the earliest date; next month the <p 67> award will
be for the individual who first obtains a fixed sum in orders, usually $2500;

leadership the third month will go to the man who gets the highest per cent
of his quota during the entire period; again, the honor will fall to the agent
whose net sales total the greatest for the month.

Further changes are rung and the inspirational effect of the contest
immensely increased by enlarging the conditions so that every third or
fourth agent is able to qualify for the month's honors and a prize.

Here, for instance, besides the prize for the first agent selling $2500,
there will be prizes—like hats, umbrellas, and so on—for every man who
closes $2500 in orders before the twentieth of the month, with the attendant
publicity of having his portrait and his record printed in the house organ
which goes to every agent in the field and every department and executive
at the factory. Before leaving the individual contests, mention should be
made of the ``star'' club of agents who sell $30,000 or more during the year;
the presi- <p 68> dency going to the agent who first secures that total, the
other official positions falling to his nearest rivals in the order in which they
finish.

The team and organization contests are usually carried on simultaneously
with the individual competitions. These range from matches between the
forces of the big city offices, like New York, Chicago, and St. Louis,
upward to district contests in which each team represents from thirty to fifty
salesmen and finally to international ``wars'' where the American
organization is pitted against all the agents abroad. Challenges from one
district to another usually precipitate the district competitions; once a year
there is a three months' general contest in which all the districts take part for
the championship of the whole selling force.

To announce contests is a simple matter; to organize and execute them so
that they are of benefit is much more difficult.

Unless the interest of the men is focused on the contests, they are not
worth while. To <p 69> make them successful the firm under consideration
utilized the following devices:—

During the contest the house organ appeared often and was devoted
almost exclusively to the contest. In it the record of each salesman was
printed, his quota, his sales to date, and other pertinent information. The
sheet was edited by a ``sporting editor,'' and great tact and skill were
displayed in giving the contest the atmosphere of an actual race or game. In
addition the sales manager, the district managers, and the house executives
wrote letters and telegrams of encouragement, and even made trips to the
agencies that got under way too slowly.

The unique feature of the contest was the manner in which the ``sporting
editor'' gave actuality to the contests by pictorial representations. One
competition took the form of a shooting match. The house organ contained
an enormous target with two rings and a bull's eye. When a salesman
qualified with orders for $625, he was credited with a shot inside the outer
ring and his name was <p 70> printed there. With $1250 in sales, he moved
into the inner ring, and when his orders amounted to $2500, he was credited
with a bull's eye and his name blazoned in the center space.

Another contest was represented as a balloon race between the different
districts. Each district was given a balloon, and as sales increased, the
airship mounted higher. On the balloon the name of the district leader in
sales was printed, while cartoons enlivened the race by showing the
expedients, in terms of orders, by which the district managers and their
crews sought to drive their airships higher. Each issue of the house organ
showed the current standing of the districts by the heights of their balloons.
This conception of the selling contest was very successful. ``Going up—
going up—how far are you up now?'' was used as a call, and it seemed to

strike the men and inspire them. It became the greeting of the salesmen
when they met, and irresistibly produced a feeling of competition and a
desire to have the district balloon go higher. <p 71>

Other ingenious fancies by which the contests were given the appeal and
interest of popular sports was their conception as a baseball game, a football
game, an automobile race, a Marathon run, and so on.

In providing prizes, the firm was rather generous, though the expense
was never great. While the contest was in progress, all those who were
really ``in the running'' had the satisfaction of honorable mention, with their
photographs reproduced in the house bulletin. This honor and publicity was
the chief reward received by the great majority of contestants, and was
adequate. Minor prizes were offered on conditions, allowing a large number
to qualify, and tempting virtually everybody to make an effort to win one.
The value of the prizes did not need to be great, for each man was
impressed with the idea that his comrades were watching him, that they
observed every advance or retrogression. Success in the contest meant
``making good'' in the eyes of the other salesmen as well as in the eyes of
his superiors. <p 72>

This desire for social approval and the spirited comment of the editor had
a marked influence on the efficiency of many of the younger salesmen.

These special contests were conducted chiefly during the ``rush'' seasons,
when activity and efficiency of salesmen meant greater returns to the house.
Because of their varied forms the contests did not become monotonous, and
thus fail in their effect. During the three or four ``big'' selling months when
special quotas were announced, an individual pocket schedule was mailed
to each man, showing how much business he must close each day to keep
pace with ``Mr. Quota,'' the constant competitor.

The most industrious and ambitious men are stimulated by competition;
with the less industrious such a stimulation is often wonder working in its
effects.

For many positions in the business world a hypothetical bogy should be
created after the style of the quota referred to above.

To increase the feeling of comradeship and <p 73> promote
co<o:>peration between the men the entire organization or single sections
of it occasionally should be made the unit of competition. This is perhaps
the most helpful form of competition, but it is hard to execute.

Valuable prizes should always be given to the winners. This ``need'' may
not necessarily be monetary.

Promotion should not depend upon success in contests, but such success
may be well reckoned in awarding promotions.

Public commendation for success in competition costs the company little
and is greatly appreciated by the winner. There seems to be no reason why
the head of the house should not assist in the presentation.

The most essential factor in creating interest in a contest is the skill of the
``sporting editor'' in injecting the real spirit of the game into each contest,
thus securing wide publicity, and enlisting the co<o:>peration of large
numbers of participants.

Prizes should be widely distributed, so that the greatest number may be
encouraged. <p 74>

A fair system of handicapping should be adopted in every case where
equal opportunity to win is not possessed by all. Previous records often
make successful bogies, and should be more extensively employed.

It is possible to carry on contests between individuals in the same
department without jealousies, but skill is required to conduct them. There
is the danger that individuals will seek to win by hindering others as well as
by exerting themselves. Where it is not possible to carry on a contest and
retain a feeling of comradeship between the men, no competition should be
encouraged.

CHAPTER IV
LOYALTY

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

DELAYED by a train of accidents, a big contractor faced forfeiture of his
bond on a city tunnel costing millions of dollars. He had exhausted his
ingenuity and his resources to comply with the terms of his contract, but
had failed. Because public opinion had been condemning concessions on
other jobs on flimsy grounds, the authorities refused to extend the time
allowed for completing the work. By canceling the contract, collecting the
penalty, and reletting the task, the city would profit without exceeding its
legal rights.

In his dilemma, he called his foremen together and explained the
situation to them. ``Tell the men,'' he said. Many of these <p 75> <p 76>
had been members of his organization for years, moving with him from one
undertaking to the next, looking to him for employment, for help in dull
seasons or in times of misfortune, repaying him with interest in their tasks
and a certain rough attachment.

He had been unusually considerate, adopting every possible safeguard for
their protection, recognizing their union, employing three shifts of men,

paying more than the required scale when conditions were hard or
dangerous.

A score of unions were represented in the organization: miners, masons,
carpenters, plasterers, engineers, electricians, and many grades of helpers.
Learning his plight, they rallied promptly to his aid. They appealed to their
trades and to the central body of unions to intervene in his behalf with the
city officials.

How One Considerate Employer was protected by his Men

As taxpayers, voters, and members of an organization potentially
effective in politics, <p 77> they approached the mayor and the department
heads concerned. They pointed out— what was true—that the city's
negligence in prospecting and charting the course of the tunnel was partly
responsible for the contractor's failure. They pleaded that the city should
make allowances rather than interrupt their employment, and that the delay
in the work would counterbalance any advantage contingent on forfeiture.
They promised also that if three additional months were given the
contractor, they would *do all in their power to push construction.

The mayor yielded; the extension was granted. And the men made their
promise good literally, waiving jealously guarded rights and sparing no
effort to forward the undertaking. The miners, masons, carpenters, and
specialists in other lines in which additional skilled men could not be
secured labored frequently in twelve-hour shifts and accepted only the
regular hourly rate for the overtime. With such zeal animating them, only
one conclusion was possible. The tunnel was entirely <p 78> completed
before the ninety days of grace had expired.

Here was loyalty as stanch and effective as that which wins battlefields
and creates nations. It increased the efficiency of the individual workers; it

greatly augmented the effectiveness of the organization as a whole. It was
developed, without appeal to sentiment, under conditions which make for
division rather than co<o:>peration between employer and employee. The
men were unionists; wages, hours, and so on, were contract matters with the
boss. Yet in an emergency, the tie between the tunnel builder and his men
was strong enough to stand the strain of the fatiguing and long-continued
effort necessary to complete the job and save the former from ruin. Like
incidents, on perhaps a smaller and less dramatic scale, are not uncommon;
but the historian of business has not yet risen to make them known.

<p 79> Loyalty, to Nation or Organization, shows itself in an Emergency

As with patriotism, business loyalty needs some such crisis as this to
evoke its expression. In peace the patriotism of citizens is rarely evident and
is frequently called in question. In America we sometimes assume that it is
a virtue belonging only to past generations. But every time the honor or
integrity of the country is threatened, a multitude of eager citizens volunteer
in its defense. Likewise, many a business man who has come to think his
workmen interested only in the wages he pays them, discovers in his hour
of need an unsuspected asset in their devotion to the welfare of the
business, and their willingness to make sacrifices to bring it past the cape of
storms.

Study of any field, of any single house, or of any of the periods of
depression which have afflicted and corrected our industrial progress, will
convince one of the unfailing and genuine loyalty of men to able and
considerate em- <p 80> ployers. So generally true is this, indeed, that
``house patriotism,'' ``organization spirit,'' or ``loyalty to the management''
is accepted by all great executives as one of the essential elements in the
day-by-day conduct of their enterprises.

Striking exhibitions of this loyalty may wait for an emergency. Unless it
exists, however, unless it is apparent in the daily routine, there is immediate
and relentless search for the antagonistic condition or method, which is
robbing the force of present efficiency and future power. Co<o:>peration of
employees is the first purpose of organization. Without loyalty and team
work the higher levels in output, quality, and service are impossible.

Loyalty on Part of Employer begets Loyalty in his Workers

The importance of loyalty in business could not readily be overestimated,
even though its sole function were to secure united action on the part of the
officers and men. Where no two men or groups of men were working to <p
81> counter purposes, but all are united in a common purpose, the gain
would be enormous, even though the amount of energy put forth by the
individuals was not increased in the least. When to this fact of value in
organized effort we add the accompanying psychological facts of increased
efficiency by means of loyalty, we then begin to comprehend what it means
to have or to lack loyalty.

The amount of work accomplished by an individual is subject to various
conditions. The whole intellect, feeling, and will must work in unity to
secure the best results. Where there is no heart in the work (absence of
feeling) relatively little can be accomplished, even though the intellect be
convinced and the will strained to the utmost. The employee who lacks
loyalty to his employer can at least render but half-hearted service even
though he strive to his utmost and though he be convinced that his financial
salvation is dependent upon efficient service. The employer who secures the
loyalty of his men not only secures better service, but he enables his men to
accomplish <p 82> more with less effort and less exhaustion. The creator of
loyalty is a public benefactor.

Such loyalty is always reciprocal. The feeling which workmen entertain
for their employer is usually a reflection of his attitude towards them. Fair
wages, reasonable hours, working quarters and conditions of average
comfort and healthfulness, and a measure of protection against accident are
now no more than primary requirements in a factory or store. Without them
labor of the better, more energetic types cannot be secured in the first place
or held for any length of time. And the employer who expects, in return for
these, any more than the average of uninspired service is sure to be
disappointed.

If he treats his men like machines, looks at them merely as cogs in the
mechanism of his affairs, they will function like machines or find other
places. If he wishes to stir the larger, latent powers of their brains and
bodies, thereby increasing their efficiency as thinkers and workers, he must
recognize them as men and individuals and give in <p 83> some measure
what he asks. He must identify them with the business, and make them feel
that they have a stake in its success and that the organization has an interest
in the welfare of its men. The boss to whom his employees turn in any
serious perplexity or private difficulty for advice and aid is pretty apt to
receive more than the contract minimum of effort every day and is sure of
devoted service in any time of need.

The Effect of Personal Relations in creating Loyalty in a Force

It is on this personal relationship, this platform of mutual interests and
helpfulness, that the success and fighting strength of many one- man houses
are built. As in the contractor's dilemma already cited, it bears fruit in the
fighting zeal, the keener interest, and the extra speed and effort which
workers bring to bear on their individual and collective tasks. All the
knowledge and skill they possess are thrown into the scale; their quickened
intelligences reach out for new methods and short <p 84> cuts; when the

crisis has passed, there may be a temporary reaction, but there is likely to be
a permanent advance both in individual efficiency and organization spirit.

On the employer's side, this feeling is expressed in the surrender of
profits to provide work in dull seasons; in the retention of aged mechanics,
laborers, or clerks on the payroll after their usefulness has passed; in
pensions; in a score of neighborly and friendly offices to those who are sick,
injured, or in trouble. A reputation for ``taking care of his men'' has
frequently been a bulwark of defense to the small manufacturer or trader
assailed by a greedy larger rival.

Personality is, beyond doubt, the primitive wellspring of loyalty. Most
men are capable of devotion to a worthy leader; few are ever zealots for the
sake of a cause, a principle, a party, or a firm. All these are too abstract to
win the affection of the average man. It is only when they become
embodied in an individual, a concrete personality which stirs our human
interest, that they become moving <p 85> powers. The soldiers of the
Revolution fought for Washington rather than for freedom; Christians are
loyal to Christ rather than to his teachings; the voter cheers his candidate
and not his party; the employee is loyal to the head of the house or his
immediate foreman and not to the generality known as the House. Loyalty
to the individuals constituting the firm may ultimately develop into house
loyalty. To attempt to create the latter sentiment, however, except by first
creating it for the men higher up is to go contrary to human nature—always
an unwise expenditure of energy.

Human Sympathy as a Factor in developing Loyalty in Men

In developing loyalty, human sympathy is the greatest factor. If an
executive of a company is confident that his directors approve his policies,
appreciate his obstacles, and are ready to back him up in any crisis, his

energy and enthusiasm for the common object never flag. If department
heads and <p 86> foremen are assured that the manager is watching their
efforts with attention and regard, approving, supporting, and sparing them
wherever possible, they will anticipate orders, assume extra burdens, and
fling themselves and their forces into any breach which may threaten their
chief's program.

If a workman, clerk, or salesman knows that his immediate chief is
interested in him personally, that he understands what service is being
rendered and is anxious to forward his welfare as well as that of the house,
there is no effort, inconvenience, or discomfort which he will not undertake
to complete a task which the boss has undertaken. Throughout the entire
organization, the sympathy and co<o:>peration of the men above with the
men below is essential for securing the highest degree of loyalty. No
assumed or manufactured sympathy, however, will take the place of the
genuine article.

<p 87> Personal Relationship with Workers as Basis for creating Loyalty

The effectiveness of human sympathy in creating loyalty is most apparent
in one-man businesses where the head of the house is in personal contact
with all or many of his employees. This personal touch, however, is not
necessarily limited to the small organization. Many men have employed
thousands and secured it. Others have succeeded in impressing their
personalities, and demonstrating their sympathy upon large forces, though
their actual relations were with a few. The impression made upon these and
the loyalty created in them were sufficient to permeate and influence the
entire body. Potter Palmer, the elder Armour, Marshall Field, and Andrew
Carnegie were among the hundreds of captains who made acquaintance
with the men in the ranks the cornerstone on which they raised their trade or
industrial citadels.

When the size of the organization precludes personal contact, or when
conditions remove <p 88> the executive to a distance, the task of
maintaining touch is frequently and successfully intrusted to a lieutenant in
sympathy with the chief's ideals and purposes. He may be the head of a
department variously styled, —adjustments, promotion and discharge,
employment, labor,—but his express function is to restore to an
organization the simple but powerful human relation without which higher
efficiency cannot be maintained. In factories and stores employing many
women this understudy to the manager is usually a woman, who is given
plenary authority in the handling of her charges, in reviewing disputes with
foremen, and in finding the right position for the misplaced worker.
Whether man or woman, this representative of the manager hears all
grievances, reviews all discharges, reductions, and the like, and makes sure
that the employee receives a little more than absolute justice.

Many successful merchants and manufacturers, however, disdain agents
and intermediaries in this relation and are always ac- <p 89> cessible to
every man in their organizations; holding that, since the co<o:>peration of
employees is the most important single element in business, the time given
to securing it is time well spent.

Even though human sympathy may well be regarded as the most
important consideration in increasing loyalty, it is not sufficient in and of
itself. The most patriotic citizens are those who have, served the state. They
are made loyal by the very act of service. They have assumed the
responsibility of promoting the welfare of the state, and their patriotism is
thereby stimulated and given concrete outlet. A paternalistic government in
which the citizens had every right but no responsibility would develop
beggars rather than patriots.

Similarly in a business house ideally organized to create loyalty, each
employee not only feels that his rights are protected, but also feels a degree
of responsibility for the success and for the good name of the house. He
feels that his task or process is an essen- <p 90> tial part of the firm's
activity; and hence is important and worthy of his best efforts. To cement
this bond and make closer the identification of the employee with the house
many firms encourage their employees to purchase stock in the company.
Others have worked out profit-sharing plans by which their men share in
the dividends of the good years and are given a powerful incentive to
promote teamwork and the practice of the economies from which the
overplus of profit is produced.

Loyalty may be developed by Education in House History and Policies

The stability of a nation depends on the patriotism of its citizens. Among
methods for developing this patriotism, *education ranks as the most
effective. In the public schools history is taught for the purpose of
awakening the love and loyalty of the rising generations. The founders,
builders, and saviors of the country, the great men of peace and war who
have contributed to its advancement, are held up for admiration. From the
recital of what <p 91> country and patriotism meant to Washington,
Jefferson, Lincoln, Grant, and a host of lesser heroes, the pupils come to
realize what country should, and does, mean to them. They become patriotic
citizens.

Grounding the New Employee in Company Traditions and Ideals

In like manner the history of any house can be used to inspire loyalty and
enthusiasm among its employees. Business has not been slow to borrow the
methods and ideals of education, but the writer has been unable to discover
any company which makes adequate use of this principle. That this loyalty
may be directed to the house as a whole, and not merely to immediate

superiors, every employee should be acquainted with the purposes and
policies of the company and should understand that the sympathy which he
discovers in his foreman is a common characteristic of the whole
organization, clear up to the president. The best way to teach this is by
example— by incidents drawn from the past, or by a <p 92> review of the
development of the company's policy.

To identify one's self with a winning cause, party, or leader, also, is
infinitely easier than to be loyal to a loser. For this reason the study of the
history of the firm may well include its trade triumphs, past and present; the
remarkable or interesting uses to which its products have been put; the
honor or prestige which its executives or members of the organization have
attained; and the hundred other items of human interest which can be
marshaled to give it house personality. All this would arouse admiration and
appreciation in employees, would stir enthusiasm and a desire to contribute
to future achievements, and would foster an unwillingness to leave the
organization.

Some companies have begun in this direction. New employees, by way
of introduction, listen to lectures, either with or without the accompaniment
of pictures, which review what the house has accomplished, define its
standing in the trade, analyze its products and <p 93> their qualities or
functions, sketch the plan and purpose of its organization, and touch upon
the other points of chief human interest. Other companies put this
information in booklets. Still others employ their house organs to recall and
do honor to the interesting traditions of the company as well as to exploit
the successful deeds and men of the moment. An organized and continuous
campaign of education along this line should prove an inexpensive means
of increasing loyalty and efficiency among the men. To the mind of the
writer, it seems clear that the future will see pronounced advances in this
particular.

Personality can be overdone, however. Workers instinctively give
allegiance to strong, balanced men, but resent and combat egotism
unchecked by regard for others' rights. Exploitation of the employer's or
foreman's personality will do more harm than good unless attended by
consideration for the personality of the employee. The service of more than
one important company has been made intolerable for men of spirit and
creative ability <p 94> by the arrogant and dominating spirit of the
management. The men who continue to sacrifice their individuality to the
whim or the arbitrary rule of their superiors, in time lose their ambition and
initiative; and the organization declines to a level of routine, mechanical
efficiency only one remove from dry- rot.

How Efficiency and Loyalty of Workers may be Capitalized

Conservation and development of individuality in workers may be made
an important factor in creating loyalty as well as in directly increasing
efficiency. Great retail stores put many department heads into business for
themselves, giving them space, light, buying facilities, clerks, and
purchasing and advertising credit as a basis of their merchandising; then
requiring a certain percentage of profit on the amount allowed them. The
more successful of Marshall Field's lieutenants were taken into partnership
and, as in the case of Andrew Carnegie and his ``cabinet of young <p 95>
geniuses,'' were given substantial shares of the wealth they helped to create.

Some industries and stores carry this practice to the point of making
specialized departments entirely independent of the general buying,
production, and selling organizations whenever these fall short of the
service offered outside; while the principle of stock distribution or other
forms of profit sharing has been adopted by so many companies that it has
come to be a recognized method of promoting loyalty.

Regard for the employee's personality must be carried down in an
unbroken chain through all the ranks. It may be broken at any step in the
descent by an executive or foreman who has not himself learned the lesson
that loyalty to the house includes loyalty to the men under him.

It is not uncommon, in some American houses, to find three generations
of workers —grandfather, father, and apprentice son— rendering faithful
and friendly service; or to discover a score of bosses and men who have <p
96> spent thirty or forty years—their entire productive lives—in the one
organization. Where such a bond exists between employer and employees,
it becomes an active, unfailing force in the development of loyalty, not only
among the veterans, but also among the newest recruits for whom it realizes
an illustration of what true co<o:>peration means.

Many Examples of the Loyalty of Executives for their Men in Danger

This double loyalty—to the chief and to the organization—is not a plant
of slow growth. Few mine accidents or industrial disasters occur without
bringing to merited, but fleeting, fame some heroic superintendent or lesser
boss who has risked his own life to save his men or preserve the company's
property. The same sense of responsibility extends to every grade. Give a
man the least touch of authority and he seems to take on added moral
stature. The engineer who clings to his throttle with collision imminent has
his counterparts in the ``handy man'' <p 97> who braves injury to slip a belt
and save another workman or a costly machine, and in the elevator
conductor who drives his car up and down through flames and smoke to
rescue his fellows. Such efficiency and organization spirit is the result of
individual growth as well as the impression of the employer's personality
upon his machine.

A Disloyal Sales Manager and his Influence on his Force

On the other hand, lack of loyalty on the part of employers towards their
men is almost as common as failing devotion on the part of workers. Too
many assume that the mere providing of work and the payment of wages
give them the right to absolute fidelity, even when they take advantage of
their men. The sales manager concerned in the following incident refused to
believe that his attitude towards his men had anything to do with the lack of
enthusiasm and low efficiency in his force.

An experienced salesman who had lost his <p 98> position because of
the San Francisco fire applied to the sales manager for a position. He was
informed that there were fifteen applicants for the Ohio territory, but that
the place would be given to him because of his better record. The manager
laid out an initial territory in one corner and ordered the salesman to work it
first.

Working this territory, the salesman secured substantial orders, but
refrained from ``over-selling'' any customer, gave considerable time to
missionary work and to cultivating the acquaintance of buyers. His
campaign was planned less for immediate results than for the future and for
the effect on the larger field of the state. Having no instructions as to
pushing his wider campaign, in about sixty days he asked for instructions.
In answer he was ordered home and discharged on the ground that business
was dull and that he had been a loss to the house. During the sixty days he
had been working on a losing commission basis with the expectation of
taking his profits later. Investigation dis- <p 99> closed that he was but one
of five salesmen to whom the Ohio territory had been assigned
simultaneously. Of the five, one other also had made good and had been
retained because he could be secured for less money.

This multiple try-out policy is entirely fair when the applicants know the
conditions. But to lead each applicant to believe that he has been engaged

subject only to his ability to make good is manifestly unjust. The facts are
bound to come out sooner or later and create distrust among all employees
of the house. Loyalty is strictly reciprocal. If an employee feels that he has
no assurance of fair treatment, his attitude towards the firm is sure to be
negative. Even the man who secures the position will recognize the firm's
lack of candor and will never give his employers the full measure of
co<o:>peration which produces maximum efficiency.

The ``square deal,'' indeed, is the indispensable basis of loyalty and
efficiency in an organization. The spirit as well as the letter of the bargain
must be observed, else the work- <p 100> men will contrive to even up
matters by loafing, by slighting the work, or by a minimum production.
This means a loss of possible daily earnings. On the other hand, employees
never fail to recognize and in time respect the executive who holds the
balance of loyalty and justice level between them and the business.

Fair wages, reasonable hours, working quarters and conditions of average
comfort and healthfulness, ordinary precautions against accidents, and
continuous employment are all now regarded as primary requirements and
are not sufficient to create loyalty in the men. More than this must be done.

The chief executive should create such a spirit that his officers shall turn
to him for help when in perplexity or difficulty. The superintendent and
officers or bosses should sustain this same sympathetic relationship toward
their men that the executive has toward his officers. A reputation for taking
care of his men is a thing to be sought in a chief executive as well as in all
underofficers.

Personal relationships should be cultivated. <p 101> In some large
organizations the chief executive may secure this personal touch with
individuals through an agent or through a department known as the
department of ``promotion and discharge,'' ``employment,'' or ``labor.'' In

others, occasional meetings on a level of equality may be brought about
through house picnics, entertainments, vacation camps, and so on, where
employer and employee meet each other outside their usual business
environment.

It is not worth while to attempt to develop loyalty to the house until there
has been developed a loyalty to the personalities representing the house.
Loyalty in business is in the main a reciprocal relationship. The way to
begin it is for the chief to be loyal to his subordinates and to see to it that all
officers are loyal to their inferiors. When loyalty from above has been
secured, loyalty from the ranks may readily be developed.

The personality of the worker must be respected by the employer.
``Giving a man a chance'' to develop himself, allowing him <p 102> to
express his individuality, is the surest way of enlisting the interest and
loyalty of a creative man.

To identify the interests of employees with the interests of the house,
various plans of profit sharing, sale of stock to employees, pensions,
insurance against sickness and accident, and so on, have been successfully
applied by many companies.

So far as possible, responsibility for the success of the house should be
assumed by all employees. In some way the workmen should feel that they
are in partnership with the executives. We easily develop loyalty for the
cause for which we have taken responsibility or rendered a service.

Creating Loyalty to Firm itself by Educational Campaign

A perpetual campaign of publicity should be maintained for the benefit of
every man in the employ of the house. In this there should be a truthful but
emphatic presentation of acts of loyalty on the part of either employers or

<p 103> workmen. Everything connected with the firm which has human
interest should be included in this history. This educational campaign
should change the loyalty to the *men in the firm into loyalty to the *firm
itself. It should be an attempt to give the firm a personality, and of such a
noble character that it would win the loyalty of the men. This could be
accomplished at little expense and with great profit.

CHAPTER V
CONCENTRATION

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

THE owner of one of the largest and most complex businesses in
America handles his day's work on a schedule as exacting as a railway time-
table. In no other way could he keep in touch with and administer the
manifold activities of his industry and a score of allied interests—buying of
the day's raw materials for a dozen plants in half as many markets, direction
of an organization exceeding 20,000 men, selling and delivering a multitude
of products in a field as wide as three continents, financing the whole
tremendous fabric.

Every department of his business, therefore, has its hour or quarter hour
in the daily program when its big problems are considered <p 104> <p
105> and settled on the tick of the clock. This schedule is flexible, since no
two days bring from any division of production, distribution, or financing
the same demands upon the owner's attention. Yet each keeps its place and
comes invariably under his eye—through reports and his own mastery of
conditions affecting the department.

To secure the high personal efficiency required for this oversight and
methodical dispatch of affairs, the owner-executive is not only protected
from outside interruptions and distractions, but is also guarded against
intrusion of the vital elements of his business—both men and matters —
except at the moment most advantageous for dealing with them.

Analysis and organization have determined these moments—just as they
have eliminated every non-essential in the things presented for
consideration and decision. Except when emergencies arise there is no
departure from the rule: ``One thing at a time—the big thing—at the right
time.'' The task in hand is never cheated, or allowed to cheat the next <p
106> in line. Management is as much a continuous process, organized and
wasteproof, as the journey of raw materials through his plants.

This is an illustration of remarkable individual efficiency attained by
concentration —the power of the human mind which seems inseparable
from any great achievement in business, in politics, in the arts, in education.
Through it men of moderate capacities have secured results apparently
beyond the reach of genius. And in no field has this power of concentration
been displayed more vividly by leaders or been more generally lacking in
the rank and file than in business. Analysis of the conditions may suggest
the reason and the remedy.

The modern business man is exhausted no more by his actual
achievements than by the things which he is compelled to resist doing.

Appeals for his attention are ceaseless. The roar of the street, the ring of
telephone bells, the din of typewriting machines, the sight of a row of men
waiting for an interview, the muffled voices from neighboring offices or <p
107> workers, the plan for the day's work which is being delayed, the
anxiety for the results for certain endeavors, suspicion as to the loyalty of

employees—these and a score of other distractions are constantly
bombarding him.

Every appeal for attention demands expenditure of energy—to ignore it
and hold the mind down to the business in hand. The simple life with its
single appeal is not for the business man. For him life is complex and
strenuous. To overcome distractions and focus his mind on one thing is a
large part of his task. If this single thing alone appealed to his attention, the
effort would be pleasing and effective. It is not the work that is hard; the
strain comes in keeping other things at bay while completing the pressing
duty.

He is exhausted, not because of his achievements, but because of the
expenditure of energy in resisting distractions.

He is inefficient, not through lack of industry, but from lack of
opportunity or of ability to concentrate his energy upon the single task at
hand. <p 108>

All sources of illumination—from the candle to the sun—send out rays of
light equally in all directions. If illumination of only *one point is desired,
the loss is appalling. The rays may be assembled, however, by reflectors
and lenses and so brought to bear in great force at a single point.

This brilliancy is not secured by greater expenditure of energy, but by
utilizing the rays which, except for the reflectors and lenses, would be
dissipated in other directions.

As any source gives off equally in all directions, so the human intellect
seems designed to respond to all forms and sorts of appeal for attention.

To keep light from going off in useless directions we use reflectors; to
keep human energy from being expended in useless directions we must
remove distractions. To focus the light at any point we use lenses; to focus
our minds at any point we use concentration.

Concentration is a state secured by the mental activity called attention. To
understand concentration we must first consider the more fundamental facts
of attention. <p 109>

In the evolution of the human race certain things have been so important
for the individual and the race that responses towards them have become
instinctive. They appeal to every individual and attract his attention without
fail. Thus moving objects, loud sounds, sudden contrasts, and the like, were
ordinarily portents of evil to primitive man, and his attention was drawn to
them irresistibly. Even for us to pay attention to such objects requires no
intention and no effort. Hence it is spoken of as *passive or *involuntary
attention.

The attention of animals and of children is practically confined to this
passive form, while adults are by no means free from it. For instance, ideas
and things to which I have no intention of turning my mind attract me. Ripe
fruit, gesticulating men, beautiful women, approaching holidays, and scores
of other things simply pop up in my mind and enthrall my attention. My
mind may be so concentrated upon these things that I become oblivious to
pressing responsibilities. In some <p 110> instances the concentration may
be but momentary; in others there may result a day dream, a building of air
castles, which lasts for a long time and recurs with distressing frequency.

Such attention is action in the line of least resistance. Though it may
suffice for the acts of animals and children it is sadly deficient for our
complex business life.

Even here, however, it is easy to relapse to the lower plane of activity and
to respond to the appeal of the crier in the street, the inconvenience of the
heat, the news of the ball game, or a pleasing reverie, or even to fall into a
state of mental apathy. The warfare against these distractions is never
wholly won. Banishing these allurements results in the concentration so
essential for successfully handling business problems. The strain is not so
much in solving the problems as in retaining the concentration of the mind.

When an effort of will enables us to overcome these distractions and
apply our minds to the subject in hand, the strain soon repeats itself. <p
111> It frequently happens that this struggle is continuous—particularly
when the distractions are unusual or our physical condition is below the
normal. No effort of the will is able to hold our minds down to work for any
length of time unless the task develops interest in itself.

This attention with effort is known as *voluntary attention. It is the most
exhausting act which any individual can perform. Strength of will consists
in the power to resist distractions and to hold the mind down to even the
most uninteresting occupations.

Fortunately for human achievement, acts which in the beginning require
voluntary effort may later result without effort.

The schoolboy must struggle to keep his mind on such uninteresting
things as the alphabet. Later he may become a literary man and find that
nothing attracts his attention so quickly as printed symbols. In commercial
arithmetic the boy labors to fix his attention on dollar signs and problems
involving profit and loss. Launched in business, <p 112> however, these
things may attract him more than a football game.

It is the outcome of previous application that we now attend without
effort to many things in our civilization which differ from those of more

primitive life. Such attention without effort is known as *secondary passive
attention. Examples are furnished by the geologist's attention to the strata of
the earth, the historian's to original manuscripts, the manufacturer's to by-
products, the merchant's to distant customers, and the attention which we all
give to printed symbols and scores of other things unnoticed by our distant
ancestors. Here our attention is similar to passive attention, though the latter
was the result of inheritance, while our secondary passive attention results
from our individual efforts and is the product of our training.

Through passive attention my concentration upon a ``castle in Spain''
may be perfect until destroyed by a fly on my nose. Voluntary attention may
make my concentration upon the duty at hand entirely satisfactory <p 113>
till dissipated by some one entering my office. Secondary passive attention
fixes my mind upon the adding of a column of figures, and it may be
distracted by a commotion in my vicinity. Thus concentration produced by
any form of attention is easily destroyed by a legion of possible
disturbances. If I desire to increase my concentration to the maximum, I
must remove every possible cause of distraction.

Organized society has recognized the hindering effect of some
distractions and has made halting attempts to abolish them.

Thus locomotives are prohibited from sounding whistles within city
limits, but power plants are permitted by noise and smoke to annoy every
citizen in the vicinity. Street cars are forbidden to use flat wheels, but are
still allowed to run on the surface or on a resounding structure and thus
become a public nuisance. Steam calliopes, newsboys, street venders, and
other unnecessary sources of noise are still tolerated.

In the design and construction of office <p 114> buildings, stores, and
factories in noisy neighborhoods, too little consideration is given to existing
means of excluding or deadening outside sounds, though the newer office

buildings are examples of initiative in this direction; not only are they of
sound-proof construction, but in many instances they have replaced the
noisy pavements of the streets with blocks which reduce the clatter to a
minimum. In both improvements they have been emulated by some of the
great retail stores which have shut out external noises and reduced those
within to a point where they no longer distract the attention of clerks or
customers from the business of selling and buying. In many, however,
clerks are still forced to call aloud for cash girls or department managers,
and the handling of customers at elevators is attended by wholly
unnecessary shouting and clash of equipment.

Of all distractions, sound is certainly the most common and the most
insistent in its appeal.

The individual efforts towards reducing it quoted above were stimulated
by the hope <p 115> of immediate and tangible profit—sound- proof
offices commanding higher rents and quiet stores attracting more
customers. In not a few cases, manufacturers have gone deeper, however,
recognizing that anything which claims the attention of an employee from
his work reduces his efficiency and cuts profits, even though he be a piece
worker. In part this explains the migration of many industries to the smaller
towns and the development of a new type of city factory with sound- proof
walls and floors, windows sealed against noise, and a system of mechanical
ventilation.

The individual manufacturer or merchant, therefore, need not wait for a
general crusade to abate the noise, the smoke, and the other distractions
which reduce his employee's effectiveness. In no small measure he can shut
out external noises and eliminate many of those within. Loud dictation,
conversations, clicking typewriters, loud-ringing telephones, can all be cut
to a key which makes them virtually indistinguishable in an office of any

size. More and more the big open office as <p 116> an absorbent of sound
seems to be gaining in favor. In one of the newest and largest of these I
know, nearly all the typewriting machines are segregated in a glass-walled
room, and long-distance telephone messages can be taken at any instrument
in the great office.

Like sound in its imperative appeal for attention is the consciousness of
strangers passing one's desk or windows.

Movement of fellow employees about the department, unless excessive
or unusual, is hardly noticed; let an individual or a group with whom we are
not acquainted come within the field of our vision, and they claim attention
immediately. For this reason shops or factories whose windows command a
busy street find it profitable to use opaque glass to shut out the shifting
scene.

This scheme of retreat and protection has been carried well-nigh to
perfection by many executives. Private offices guarded by secretaries fortify
them against distractions and unauthorized claims on their attention, both
from within and without their organizations. <p 117> Routine problems, in
administration, production, distribution, are never referred to them; these
are settled by department heads, and only new or vital questions are
submitted to the executive. In many large companies, besides the
department heads and secretaries who assume this load of routine, there are
assistants to the president and the general manager who further reduce the
demands upon their chiefs. The value of time, the effect of interruptions and
distractions upon their own efficiency, are understood by countless
executives who neglect to guard their employees against similar
distractions.

Individual business men, unsupported by organizations, have worked out
individual methods of self-protection.

One man postpones consideration of questions of policy, selling
conditions, and soon until the business of the day has been finished, and
interruptions from customers or employees are improbable. Another, with
his stenographer, reaches his office half an hour earlier than his
organization, and, picking out the day's big <p 118> task, has it well
towards accomplishment before the usual distractions begin. The foremost
electrical and mechanical engineer in the country solves his most difficult
and abstruse problems at home, at night. His organization provides a perfect
defense against interruptions; but only in the silence, the isolation of his
home at night, does he find the complete absence of distraction permitting
the absolute concentration which produces great results.

This chapter was prefaced by an instance where protection from
distractions through organization was joined with methodical attack on the
elements of the day's work. This combination approaches the ideal; it is the
system followed by nearly all the great executives of America. Time and
attention are equably allotted to the various interests, the various
departments of effort which must have the big man's consideration during
the day. Analysis has determined how much of each is required;
appointments are made with the men who must co<o:>perate; all other
matters are pushed aside until a decision is reached; <p 119> and upon the
completion of each attention is concentrated on the next task.

A striking instance of this organization of work and concentration upon a
single problem is afforded by the ``cabinet meetings'' of some large
corporations and the luncheons of groups of powerful financiers in New
York. There are certain questions to be settled, a definite length of time in
which to settle them. In the order of their importance they are allotted so
many minutes. At the expiration of that time a vote is taken, the president or
chairman announces his decision, and the next matter is attacked.

There is no royal method of training in concentration. It is in the main
developed by repeated acts of attention upon the subject in hand.

If I am anxious or need to develop the power of concentration upon what
people say, either in conversation or in public discourse, I may be helped by
persistently and continuously forcing myself to attend. The habit of
concentration may to a degree be thus acquired; <p 120> pursuing it, I
should never allow myself to listen indifferently, but I must force myself to
strict attention.

Such practice would result ultimately in a habit of concentration upon
what I hear, but would not necessarily increase my power of concentration
upon writing, adding, or other activities. Specific training in each is
essential, and even then the results will be far short of what might be
desired. Persistent effort in any direction is not without result, however, and
any increase in concentration is so valuable that it is worth the effort it
costs. If a man lacks power of concentration in any particular direction, he
should force concentration in that line and continue till a habit results.

Our control over our muscles and movements far exceeds our direct
control over our attention. An attitude of concentration is possible, even
when the desired mental process is not present. Thus by fixing my eyes on a
page and keeping them adjusted for reading, even when my mind is on a
subject far removed, I can help my will to secure concentration. I <p 121>
can likewise restrain myself from picking up a newspaper or from chatting
with a friend when it is the time for concentrated action on my work. By
continuously resisting movements which tend to distract and by holding
myself in the position of attention, the strain upon my will in forcing
concentration becomes less.

Concentration is practically impossible when the brain is fagged or the
bodily condition is far below the normal in any respect.

The connection between the body and the mind is most intimate, and the
perfect working of the body is necessary to the highest efficiency of the
mind. The power of concentration is accordingly affected by surroundings
in the hours of labor, by sleep and recreation, by the quality and quantity of
food, and by every condition which affects the bodily processes favorably.

Recognition of this truth is behind the very general movement, both here
and abroad, to provide the best possible conditions both in the factories and
the home environment of workers. Employers are coming more and more to
un- <p 122> derstand that conservation of physical forces means maximum
output. The foundation, of course, is a clean, spacious, well-lighted, and
perfectly ventilated factory in a situation which affords pure air and
accessibility to the homes of employees. In England and Germany the
advance towards this ideal has taken form in the ``garden cities'' of which
the plant is the nucleus and the support. In America there is no lack of
industrial towns planned and built as carefully as the works to which they
are tributary.

Some have added various ``welfare'' features, ranging from hot luncheons
served at cost, free baths, and medical attendance to night schools for
employees to teach them how to live and work to better advantage. The
profit comes back in the increased efficiency of the employees.

Even though the health be perfect and the attitude of attention be
sustained the will is unable to retain concentration by an effort for more
than a few seconds at a time.

When the mind is concentrated upon an <p 123> object, this object must
develop and prove interesting, otherwise there will be required every few
seconds the same tug of the will. This concentration by voluntary attention
is essential, but cannot be permanent. To secure enduring concentration we
may have to ``pull ourselves together'' occasionally, but the necessity for

such efforts should be reduced. This is accomplished by developing interest
in the task before us, through application of the fundamental motives such
as self-preservation, imitation, competition, loyalty, and the love of the
game.

If the task before me is essential for my self-preservation, I shall find my
mind riveted upon it. If I hope to secure more from speculation than from
the completion of my present tasks, then my self-preservation is not
dependent upon my work and my mind will irresistibly be drawn to the
stock market and the race track. If I wish my work to be interesting and to
compel my undivided attention, I should then try to make it appeal to me as
of more importance than anything <p 124> else in the world. I must be
dependent upon it for my income; I must see that others are working and so
imitate their action; I must compete with others in the accomplishment of
the task; I must regard the work as a service to the house; and I must in
every possible way try to ``get into the game.''

This conversion of a difficult task into an interesting activity is the most
fruitful method of securing concentration.

Efforts of will can never be dispensed with, but the necessity for such
efforts should be reduced to the minimum. The assumption of the attitude of
attention should gradually become habitual during the hours of work, and
so take care of itself.

The methods which a business man must use to cultivate concentration in
himself are also applicable to his employees. The manner of applying the
methods is, of course, different. The employer may see to it that as far as
possible all distractions are removed. He cannot directly cause his men to
put forth voluntary effort, but he can see to it that they re- <p 125> tain the
attitude of concentration. This may require the prohibition of acts which are
distracting but which would otherwise seem indifferent. The employer has a

duty in regard to the health of his men. Certain employers have assumed to
regulate the lives of their men even after the day's work is over. Bad habits
have been prohibited; sanitary conditions of living have been provided;
hours of labor have been reduced; vacations have been granted; and sanitary
conditions in shop and factory have been provided for.

Employers are finding it to their interest to make concentration easy for
their men by rendering their work interesting.

This they have done by making the work seem worth while. The men are
given living wages, the hope of promotion is not too long deferred,
attractive and efficient models for imitation are provided, friendly
competition is encouraged, loyalty to the house is engendered, and love of
the work inculcated. In addition, everything which hinders the development
of interest in the work has been resisted. <p 126>

How will a salesman, for instance, develop interest in his work if he
makes more from his ``side lines'' than from the service he renders to the
house which pays his expenses? How can the laborer be interested in his
work if he believes that by gambling he can make more in an hour than he
could by a month's steady work? The successful shoemaker sticks to his
last, the successful professional man keeps out of business, and the wise
business man resists the temptation to speculate. Occasionally a man may
be capable of carrying on diverse lines of business for himself, but the man
is certainly a very great exception who can hold his attention to the interests
of his employer when he expects to receive greater rewards from other
sources.

The power of concentration depends in part upon inheritance and in part
upon training.

Some individuals, like an Edison or a Roosevelt, seem to be constructed
after the manner of a searchlight. All their energy may be turned in one
direction and all the rest of the world disregarded. Others are what we call
scatter- <p 127> brained. They are unable to attend completely to any one
thing. They respond constantly to stimulation in the environment and to
ideas which seem to ``pop up'' in their minds.

Some people can read a book or paper with perfect satisfaction, even
though companions around them are talking and laughing. For others, such
attempts are farcical.

Many great men are reputed to have had marvelous powers of
concentration. When engaged in their work, they became so absorbed in it
that distracting thoughts had no access to their minds, and even hunger,
sleep, and salutations of friends have frequently been unable to divert the
attention from the absorbing topic.

There are persons who cannot really work except in the midst of
excitement.

When surrounded by numerous appeals to attention, they get wakened up
by resisting these attractions and find superfluous energy adequate to attend
to the subject in hand. This is on the same principle that governs the effects
of poisonous stimulants. Taken <p 128> into the system, the whole bodily
activity is aroused in an attempt to expel the poison. Some of this
abnormally awakened energy may be applied to uses other than those
intended by nature. Hence some individuals are actually helped in their
work at least temporarily by the use of stimulants. Most of the energy is of
course required to expel the poison, and hence the method of generating the
energy is uneconomical.

The men who find that they can accomplish the most work and
concentrate themselves upon it the most perfectly when in the midst of
noise and confusion are paying a great price for the increase of energy,
available for profitable work. To be dependent on confusion for the
necessary stimulation is abnormal and expensive. Rapid exhaustion and a
shortened life result. It is a bad habit and nothing more.

Many persons seem able to disregard the common and necessary
distractions of office, store, or factory.

Other persons are so constituted that these distractions can never be
overcome. Such <p 129> persons cannot hear a message through a
telephone when others in the room are talking; they cannot dictate a letter if
a third person is within hearing; they cannot add a column of figures when
others are talking. Habit and effort may reduce such disability, but in some
instances it will never even approximately eliminate it. Such persons may
be very efficient employees, and their inability to concentrate in the
presence of distractions should be respected. Every business man is careful
to locate every piece of machinery where it will work best, but equal care
has not been given to locating men where they may work to the greatest
advantage.

By inheritance the power of concentration differs greatly among
intelligent persons. By training, those with defective power may improve,
but will never perfect the power to concentrate amidst distractions. To
subject such persons to distractions is an unwise expenditure of energy

Concentration by voluntary attention should be avoided, but
concentration by secondary passive <p 130> attention cultivated.
Organized business interests should eliminate such public nuisances as
surface street cars, elevated trains, venders of wares, screeching newsboys,
smoking chimneys, and the like.

In individual establishments walls may be deadened to sounds,
telephones may be muffled, call bells may be replaced by buzzers with
indicators, clerks may have other methods than that of calling aloud for
``cash'' or for floor walkers, typewriters may be massed with a view to
reducing the general commotion, the illumination at the desks may be
increased, discomforts should be reduced to a minimum, work may be so
systematized that only one task at a time demands attention.

At least the attitude of concentration should be habitual. The bodily
condition favorable to the best concentration may make profitable such
devices as firm lunch rooms, the building of industrial villages, and so on.

Concentration is secured positively by bringing into activity the various
motives which affect most powerfully the different individu- <p 131> als.
There should be a universal taboo on horse racing and all forms of
gambling. Even ``side lines'' should be completely discouraged. Some
individuals are so hindered by the ordinary and necessary distractions of
business that special protection should be granted to them.

CHAPTER VI
WAGES

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

FIFTY years ago works on psychology were devoted largely to
discussion of ideas and of concepts. To-day the point of emphasis has
changed, and we are now paying much attention to a study of ``attitudes.'' It
is doubtless important to analyze my ideas or concepts, but it is of much
more importance to know my attitudes. It is vital to know how to influence

the ideas of others; but to be able to influence their attitudes is of still
greater significance.

We all know in a general way what we mean by an attitude, but it is
difficult to define or to comprehend it exactly. I have one attitude towards a
snake and a totally different one towards my students. If when hunting <p
132> <p 133> quail I happen upon a little harmless snake, I find that I
respond to the sight in a most absurd manner. Dread and repulsion
overcome me. I can hardly restrain myself from killing the snake, even
though doing so will frighten the birds I am hunting. I am predisposed to
react in a particular way towards a snake. I sustain a particular attitude
towards it.

In the presence of my students I find that a spirit of unselfish devotion
and a desire to be of assistance are likely to be uppermost. That is to say, I
sustain towards my students an attitude of helpfulness, a predisposition to
react towards them in such a way that their interests may be furthered. In
fact, I find that we all take particular attitudes towards the people we know
and towards every task of our lives. These attitudes are very significant, and
yet they are often developed by circumstances which made but little
apparent impression at the time, or may have been altogether forgotten. I
cannot recall, for instance, the experience of my boyhood which developed
<p 134> my present absurd attitude toward harmless snakes.

When witnessing a play, my attitude of suspicion towards a particular
character may have been promoted by means of music and color, by means
of the total setting of the play, or by some other means which never seemed
to catch my attention. These concealed agencies threw me into an attitude
of suspicion, even while I was not aware that such a result was being
attempted.

This modern conception of psychology teaches us that in influencing
others we are not successful until we have influenced their attitudes.
Children in school do not draw patriotism from mere information about
their country. Patriotism comes with the cultivation of the proper attitude
towards one's native land.

Success or failure in business is caused more by mental attitude even
than by mental capacities.

Nothing but failure can result from the mental attitude which we
designate variously as laziness, indifference, indolence, apathy, <p 135>
shiftlessness, and lack of interest. All business successes are due in part to
the attitudes which we call industry, perseverance, interest, application,
enthusiasm, and diligence.

In any individual, too, these attitudes may not be the same towards
different objects and may be subject to very profound changes and
developments. A schoolboy is frequently lazy when engaged in the study of
grammar, but industrious when at work in manual training. A young man
who is an indolent bookkeeper may prove to be an indefatigable salesman.
Another who has shown himself apathetic and indifferent in a subordinate
position may suddenly wake up when cast upon his own responsibility.

Few men of any intelligence can develop the same degree of interest in
each of several tasks. Personally I find that my shiftlessness in regard to
some of my work is appalling. Touching my main activities, however, I
judge that my industry is above reproach.

The preceding chapters (particularly the chapters on Imitation,
Competition, and Loy- <p 136> alty) were attempts to discover and to
present the most effective motives or factors in producing in workers an
attitude of industry. Based on a study of psychology and of business,

methods were presented which may be utilized with but little expense and
yet are effective in awakening instinctive responses in the worker and hence
greatly increasing his efficiency. The present chapter will deal with an even
more effective means of securing an attitude of industry since it appeals to
three of the most fundamental and irresistible of man's instincts.

With most of us the degree of our laziness or our industry depends partly
upon our affinity for the work, but chiefly upon the motives which stimulate
us.

For our ancestors, preservation depended upon their securing the
necessary means for food, clothing, and shelter. In the struggle for existence
only those individuals and races survived who were able to secure these
necessary articles. In climates and regions removed from the tropics only
the exceedingly <p 137> industrious survived. In warm and fertile lands
those who were relatively industrious managed to exist. Because of the
absence of the necessity for clothing and because of the abundance of
available food, races have developed in the tropics which are notoriously
lazy. The human race, individually and collectively, works only where and
when it is compelled to.

The energetic races, those which have advanced in civilization, live in
lands where the struggle for existence has been continuous. Necessity is a
hard master, but its rule is indispensable to worthy achievement. The
instinct of self-preservation and the industrious attitude are responses which
the human race has learned to exercise, in the main, only in case of need.
Self-preservation is the first law; where life and personal liberty are
dependent upon industry, idleness will not be found. Wealth removes the
obligation to toil; hence the poor boy often outdistances his more favored
brother.

Individuals work for pay as a means of <p 138> self-preservation, and
unless that is satisfactory other motives have but little weight with them.
The needs of the self which preservation demands are continuously
increasing. The needs of the American-born laborer are greater than those of
the Chinaman. Regardless of this higher standard of living and the ever
increasing number of ``necessities,'' the instinct of self-preservation acts in
connection with them all.

Almost without exception the interest of workers centers in the wage. If
they could retain their accustomed wage with less effort, they would do so.
If the retention and increase depend on individual production, they will
respond to the compulsion.

Every student of psychology recognizes the fact that the wage is more
than a means of self-preservation. Man is a distinctly social creature. He has
a social self as well as an individual self. His social self demands social
approval as much as his individual self demands bread, clothing, and
shelter. In our present industrial system this social distinc- <p 139> tion is
most often indicated by means of monetary reward. The laborer not only
demands that his toil shall provide the means for self- preservation, but he
seeks through his wages the social distinction which he feels to be his due.
His desire for increase of wages is often partly, and in some instances
mainly, due to his craving for distinction or social approval.

In such instances the wage is to be thought of as something comparable
to the score of a ball player. The desire for a high score is sufficient motive
to beget the most extreme exertion, even though the reward anticipated is
nothing more than a sign of distinction and without any relationship
whatever to self- preservation.

In common with some of the lower animals man has an instinct to collect
and hoard all sorts of things. This instinct is spoken of in psychology as the

hoarding or proprietary instinct. In performing instinctive acts we do so
with enthusiasm, but blindly. We take great delight in the performing of the
act, even though the ultimate result of the act <p 140> may be entirely
unknown to us. The squirrel collects and stores nuts with great delight and
industry. He has no idea of the approaching winter, but gathers the nuts
simply because for him it is the most interesting process in his experience.

Most persons display a like instinctive tendency to make collections and
hoard articles. This is particularly apparent in collections of such things as
canceled postage stamps, discarded buttons, pebbles, sticks, magazines, and
other non-useful articles.

When this hoarding instinct is not controlled by reason or checked by
other interests, we have the miser. In a less degree, we all share with the
miser his hoarding instinct. We all like to collect money just as the squirrel
likes to gather nuts. The octogenarian continues to collect money with
unabated zeal, even though he be childless. He is probably not aware that he
is collecting merely for the pleasure of collecting.

Since the wage is the means ordinarily employed to awaken in workers
the three instincts <p 141> of self-preservation, of social distinction, and of
hoarding, it is not strange that an industrial age should regard it as the
chief means of increasing efficiency.

The employer has not attempted to discover what instincts were appealed
to by the wage, or the most economical method of stimulating these
instincts. He has not undervalued the wage in securing efficiency, but rather
has assumed that the service secured must be in direct proportion to the
amount expended.

Such an assumption is not warranted. Of two employers with equal
forces and payrolls one may receive much more and better service than the

other. It is not a question merely of how much is spent but how wisely it is
spent. The wage secures service to the degree in which it awakens these
fundamental instincts under consideration.

It is apparent, therefore, that other factors than the amount of money
expended in wages are to be considered by every employer. Without
increasing the pay roll he may increase the efficiency of his men. The
employer who has <p 142> determined the number of men he needs and the
wages he must pay has only begun to solve his labor problem.

In the preparation of the present chapter a large number of business men
were interviewed personally or by correspondence.

One of the questions asked was: ``How do you make the most of the
wages paid your men?''

As subsidiary to this general question three other questions were asked:
``In paying them do you base the amount to be received by each man upon
a fixed salary? By some of the men upon actual output—commissions or
piecework rates? By some upon a combination including profit-sharing or
bonus?''

The answers to these latter questions were not uniform even among
employers engaged apparently in the same business and under very similar
conditions. Some reported that all the methods suggested were used in their
establishment. Factory hands were employed on piecework or on a
premium or bonus basis where conditions permitted; office assistants <p
143> on fixed salaries; department managers upon a combination including
profit sharing. The results reported, however, were far from uniform. The
astounding feature was the diversity of opinion among successful managers
of employees. By various houses one or more of the systems had been tried
under apparently favorable conditions and had been discarded. On the other

hand each of the systems was advocated by equally successful business
firms.

In judging of the relative merits of fixed salaries as compared with other
methods the experiences of individual firms offer no certain data. The
relative merits and demerits are best disclosed by a psychological analysis
of the manner in which the various devices appeal to the employee's
instincts and reason.

When wages are based on commission, piece rate, or a bonus or premium
system, the stimulus to action is constantly present. Every stroke of the
hammer, every sale made, every figure added, increases the wage. The wage
thus continuously beckons the worker to greater accomplishment. <p 144>

All other considerations lose in importance, and the mind becomes
focused on output. The worker is blinded to all other motives, and
invariably sacrifices quality unless this be guarded by rigid inspection. The
piecework or task system thus influences the worker directly and
incessantly without regard for the particular instinct to which it may be
appealing. Every increase in rate adds directly to the means of self-
preservation, of social distinction, and of the accumulation of wealth.

The worker with a fixed salary or wage does not feel as continuously the
goad of his wage. It is less in mind and does not control his attitude toward
his work. The man on a fixed salary, therefore, will not produce so much.

If he be a workman, he may take better care of his tools, keep his output
up to a higher standard of quality, prepare himself for more responsible
positions. If he be a salesman, he may be more considerate of his customers
and hence really more valuable to his employer; he may be more loyal to
the house and hence <p 145> promote the ``team work'' of the organization,
and he may because of his more receptive state of mind be preparing

himself for much greater usefulness to his house. If he be a superintendent,
he may be more thoughtful of his men, or more scrupulous for the future of
the business.

Production methods or labor conditions are often such that piecework is
impossible. There are many functions and processes which thus far have not
been satisfactorily adjusted to task systems; there are others (the inspection
service in a factory, for instance) where a premium on increased output
would defeat the first purpose of the service. Where results can be
accurately measured, however, and the quality of the service can be
automatically secured or is not sacrificed by concentration upon quantity,
the task system—whether it take the form of piece rates, premiums, or
bonus—has such superior psychological advantages that it will probably
come more and more into use.

Under the general heading quoted above— <p 146>

``How do you make the most of the wages paid your employees?''—the
following question was asked: ``What special method do you employ to
make men satisfied or pleased with their wages?'' The answers were most
interesting and instructive. One manager having many thousand men in his
organization narrated various methods by which he kept in personal touch
with his men, and turned this personal relationship to the advantage of the
house.

One illustration will make clear the line he pursued. In the card catalogue
of the employees, the birthday of each is noted, the executive recognizing
that for the average man this is an anniversary even more important than
New Year's.

If for any reason a member of the organization deserves or requires the
executive's personal attention, his birthday may be chosen as the date of the

interview. Then whether the man merits an advance for extra good work or
needs help to correct a temporary slump in efficiency, the reward or the
appeal takes on added meaning <p 147> because it coincides with a turning
point in his life.

To facilitate the plan, the manager's file of employment cards is arranged,
not by initials or departments, but by birthdays. Each workman's name falls
under his eye a few days in advance, long enough to secure a report from
his foreman, if knowledge is lacking of his progress.

As I entered this manager's office, I met a young man coming out. He
had been in the company's employ only a few months and his relations with
the organization had not yet been established. Asked for a report, his
foreman gave him a good record and recommended a small advance.
Imagine the surprise, the instant access of pride and loyalty, the impulse
towards greater effort and efficiency, when the young man was called into
the manager's office on his birthday, congratulated on his record, and
informed that he would start his new year with an advance in wages.
Double the advance, if allowed in the usual way, would not have so
impressed and satisfied <p 148> him. The increased wage made its appeal
direct to the instinct for social recognition, and hence was very effective.

Such a method does not admit of general application. Practiced in cold
blood, it might even be harmful. But in this case, it struck me not as an act
of selfish cleverness, but as the expression of a real sympathy and interest
which the manager felt for his men. The cleverness lay in the recognition
that no man is ever so susceptible to counsel, to appreciation, or to rebuke
as on his birthday, when the social self is especially alert.

In other organizations, the effort to extend this factor of human sympathy
to each worker and to see that full justice is rendered to him takes the form
of a department of promotion and discharge. The head is the direct

representative of the ``front office'' and is independent of superintendents
and foremen. No man can be ``paid off'' until the facts have been submitted
to the consideration of this department. Here also the man may present his
case to an unprejudiced and sympathetic arbiter. <p 149>

In actual practice the man ``paid off'' is sometimes retained and the
foreman, on the evidence of prejudice, bad temper, or other incompetency,
is discharged. In consequence every workman knows that his place does not
depend upon the whim of his immediate superior, but that faithful service
will certainly be recognized.

Furthermore, this department assumes the task of shifting men from one
department to another and thus minimizing the misfits which lower the
efficiency of the whole organization. Records of each man's performance
are kept, and promotions and discharge are more nearly in accord with facts
than would be possible in a large house without some such agency. In too
many big establishments the individual feels that he does not count in the
crowd and that he is helpless to do anything to advance himself or to protect
himself against an antagonistic foreman. In large measure, such a
department reduces this feeling and bridges the chasm between the men and
the firm.

In its effect on the attitude and efficiency of employees, the method of
fixing and ad- <p 150> justing wages is no less important than the wages
themselves. The steady trend of the labor market has been upward and
always upward; it is one of the notable achievements of trade and industry
that this constant appreciation in the price of man power has been
neutralized by increase in the efficiency of its application. This increase in
earning capacity has been secured not alone by the development of
automatic machinery, but by the division of labor, the subdivision of

processes, and the education of workers to accept the new methods, and
acquire expert skill in some specialty.

Hardly a generation has passed since one man, or perhaps two working
together, built farm wagons, steam engines, and a thousand other articles
entire. Now a hundred mechanics or machine tenders may have contributed
to either wagon or engine before it reaches the shipping department. Three
fourths of these workers are paid piece rates. The substitution of these piece
rates for day wages, the striking of a satisfactory balance between
production and compensation, and <p 151> the endless changes in the scale
as new parts or faster or simpler processes are invented— have all been
operations in which the tact and man-handling skill of executives have
played a significant part.

In the larger organization this knowledge or skill is often supplied by a
manager who has ``come up through the ranks'' and has not forgotten his
journeyman's dexterity on the way or neglected to keep in touch with
improved methods.

Frequently the advantage of a small industry or trading venture over its
larger rivals depends on the owner's mastery of all the processes or
conditions involved and his ability to deal with his employees on a personal
plane in fixing wages or in establishing the standard day's work.

In a stove factory where four fifths of the processes are paid by piece
rates, it was necessary, not long ago, to fix the remuneration for the
assembling of a new type of range. Most of the operations were standard;
the workmen and the management differed, however, on what should be
paid for the setting and fas- <p 152> tening of a back piece with seventeen
bolts. The men asked fifteen cents a range. When refused, they named
twelve cents as an ultimatum. The company was willing neither to pay such
a price nor to antagonize the workmen.

The dispute was settled by a demonstration. The superintendent was
himself a graduate from the bench and had been an expert workman. The
company's contract with the assemblers' union set $4.50 a day as the
maximum wage. To prove his contention that even twelve cents was too
great a price, he set the back pieces on ten ranges himself, under the eyes of
a committee, and proved that at six cents a range he could easily earn the
maximum day wage. The price agreed upon was eight cents, little more than
half the original demand. Without the demonstration the men would have
accepted twelve cents reluctantly.

In the course of the interviews with employers, it became evident that
there was agreement on one point—to educate the worker to realize that the
house's policy in <p 153> handling its men gave added value to the sums
paid out in wages.

The shiftless or unskilled man works mainly for the next pay envelope,
with little or no regard for the continuity of employment, the possibility of
promotion, of pension, of sick or accident benefits, of working conditions,
or the like.

The skilled worker, on the contrary, and the more desirable class of
laborers, nearly always rate their wages above or below par, according to
the presence or the absence of these contingent benefits or emoluments.

To the average man with a family, the ``steady job'' at fair wages is the
first consideration. It appeals more strongly to him than intermittent
employment at a much higher rate; while the younger, restless, and less
dependable man, both skilled and unskilled, gravitates to the shop where he
can command a premium for a little while. Just as managers are always
looking for the steady worker, nearly all agree in assuring their employees
that faithful and efficient service will be rewarded with continuous
employment. <p 154>

To carry out this policy is sometimes difficult in businesses where
demand is seasonal and where a large part of the product must be made to
order. Nevertheless, the manager who adjusts his production program to
cover the entire year has the choice of the best workers even when other
factories offer higher rates. Likewise, the employer who sacrifices his profit
in bad years to ``take care of his men'' and hold his organization together
recovers his losses when the revival comes.

So deeply rooted is this desire for a ``steady job'' and so generally
recognized as an essential of the labor problem that several large industries
have developed ``side lines'' to which they can turn their organization
during their slack seasons; while others in periods of depression pile up
huge stocks of standard products, making heavy investments of capital, for
the primary purpose of keeping their men employed.

How such a policy reacts on the wage question, and hence on the
efficiency of employees, is shown by an instance which lately fell under <p
155> my notice. By a long and persistent campaign of education and
demonstration, a small ``quality'' house forced a rival ten times as large to
adopt the careful processes on which this quality depended. Adopting the
small man's methods, the competitor, instead of training its own operatives
to the new standards, sought to hire the other man's skilled workers. The
premium offered was a thirty per cent advance. It was refused, however.
The tempted mechanics, analyzing the rival's proposal, hit on the disloyalty
contemplated towards its own employees. They were to be discharged or
transferred to other departments to make room for the new men.

Measuring this cold-blooded policy against the consideration, the
unfailing effort of their old employer to ``take care of them'' in bad seasons,
the workers decided to stick to the smaller company and refuse the advance.

Next to continuous employment, among methods of increasing the value
of wages, is the policy of making promotions from the ranks.

This practice seems to be commonly ac- <p 156> cepted as fruitful,
although many firms believe it impossible of application in filling some of
the higher as well as some of the more technical positions. Where the
system is applicable, it acts as a powerful stimulus to the men by adding to
their present wages the promise or possibility of better positions and higher
pay in the future. It gives assurance of promotion for faithful service much
greater than in houses which fill the upper positions from outside sources
on the assumption that they thus get ``new blood'' into the business. The
men secured from outside may be more skilled or more productive of
immediate results than any available in the house organization. By their
importation, however, the wages of all the men aspiring to the position have
been cheapened. Nor does the evil stop there.

The assumption is naturally drawn that the same practice is likely to be
followed in filling other vacancies. The stimulus to initiative and activity is
thus weakened for men in every grade and their wages are shrunk below
par. <p 157>

The importance which some successful employers attach to this principle
of promotion from the ranks is well illustrated by an incident which
recently occurred in a large manufacturing establishment organized on a
one-man basis. During the president's absence it was decided to open up a
new zone of trade for a new product. No one in the organization knew the
product and the field, so a new man was put in charge. The work progressed
surprisingly well; the enterprise was in every way successful.

When the real head returned, he called his managers together and told
them that the new man must be removed and the most deserving man in the
regular organization appointed in his place. He was met with the protest that

no employee was capable of taking up the work and reminded that the new
man had already achieved great success. The president answered that he
was willing to lose money in the department for the first year rather than
cheapen and disorganize the service by taking away the certainty of
promotion and by re- <p 158> moving the incentive to study and self-
development which had increased the efficiency of every ambitious
employee.

Innumerable examples of the same principle in promotions could be
gleaned from the records of some of the oldest and most progressive houses
in the country. In one establishment visited, the quality of whose wares is
strenuously guarded, it was discovered that the chemist and metallurgist in
charge of the factory laboratory had been lifted out of one of the
departments and supplied with the money to take a specialized course in
physics, chemistry, and metallurgy. The advertising manager, the factory
engineer, and two or three of the foremen had been given leaves of absence
to study and fit themselves for the positions to which their talents and
inclinations drew them. Even among the workmen there was a fixed basis
for advancement towards the better jobs and the higher rates, dependent on
satisfactory service and output.

To these major considerations in increasing the worth of wages, those
companies which <p 159> have given the longest attention to the problem
add many other inducements.

An efficient and contented employee has a positive money value to any
employer. To hold him and keep him efficient, his personal comfort and
needs should be considered in every way not detrimental to the company's
interests.

As nearly as possible, the ideal in factory location and construction is
approached. Some industries have removed bodily to country towns, less

for the sake of a cheap site than for the purpose of establishing themselves
where housing conditions for workers were good, rents low, the cost of
living cheaper, and other factors tending to *add value to every dollar paid
in wages were present. Direct appeal was made to the intelligence of
employees, whose health is part of their capital, by making and keeping
working conditions as healthful and sanitary, as little taxing on eyesight and
bodily vigor as circumstances and judicious investment of capital allowed.
Scores of towns have been built outright, to benefit employees. <p 160>

In line with this policy are the systems of benefit insurance for accident
and sickness maintained and partly supported by many companies; the
pension systems which have been adopted within the last few years by
some of the greatest and most progressive companies in America; the free
medical service, both in case of factory accidents and sickness at home,
which other firms provide for employees; and various other activities
contributing to the welfare of workers, both during working hours and
afterwards.

Employers are coming more and more to see that this is the case and to
devote both thought and money to the elimination of conditions which cut
wages below par.

Whatever reduces hazard, discomfort, loss of time, uncertainty, or the
cost of living for workers adds value to their wages and is a means of
influencing their attitude towards the company.

Some employers are continually exercised to keep the wages of their men
from falling below par. Others are equally solicitous that their men may
regard their wages as above <p 161> par. This classification is a real one
and was made plain by some of the interviews referred to above. Thus in
answer to the question, ``What special method do you employ to make men
satisfied or pleased with their wages?'' one employer immediately put his

own interpretation on the question. To him it meant, ``What method do you
employ to keep your men from being *dissatisfied with their wages?''

His answer was: ``By paying them somewhere near what they ask or
expect. If we don't,'' he added, ``they go out on strike and we have to
compromise.''

The majority of successful employers have advanced beyond this
negative, defensive attitude and take a positive and aggressive position in
dealing with the problem.

Instead of assuming their work accomplished when the men are not
dissatisfied or rebellious, they do not rest until every dollar paid out in
wages is above par in its influence upon efficiency.

Thus in innumerable ways the progressive employer increases the value
of all wages he <p 162> pays by making them appeal to the reason and to
the instincts of workers in a way un- dreamed of by less enlightened men.
The purpose of wages is to produce a certain psychological effect and to
promote the most favorable attitude on the part of the worker. The methods
of increasing the purchasing power of money thus spent is one of the most
interesting and yet complex problems which the business man has to face.

This chapter shows the psychological ground for the following
statements:—

Employees differ in their response to piecework rates and to salaries.
Some respond more satisfactorily to one and some to the other.

When the development of men for better positions is of prime
importance, the piecework system is not to be adopted. If the quantity of

work per unit of wage is of greatest importance, then some form of wage
other than fixed salary should be used.

An employee should not be dismissed as hopelessly lazy till he has
shown this attitude <p 163> in more than one department or has failed to
respond to different forms of stimulation.

Changes in wages may often be placed under the authority of some
person or committee other than the immediate superiors of the employees
involved. This authority may be vested in the direct representatives of the
executives or in such a committee as would be formed by representatives of
the executives and also employees from the different departments of the
establishment.

Payment of wages, so far as possible, should be made to appeal to the
instincts for social distinction and for acquisition as well as to the instinct
for self-preservation.

Wages should never be reduced without a tactful and sincere attempt to
convince the men of the necessity of such an act.

Increase in wages may well be made a personal matter. Some firms,
however, are most successful with a mechanical wage system in which
employees know exactly the conditions necessary for an increase in wages.

All work should be thoroughly supervised <p 164> and inspected so that
employees know that good service will be recognized and rewarded.

The policy of filling all positions from the ranks seems growing in favor,
since it gives certain hope for advancement and hence greater satisfaction
with the present wage.

The wage may well include a tacit insurance for the future. Employees
should be assured that so long as they remain faithful to the firm, their work
and pay will continue, and that in accident or old age they will be provided
for. Accepted thus, the wage secures increased service.

CHAPTER VII
PLEASURE

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

TO prevent the usual ``summer slump'' in output, the manager of a
factory employing a hundred or more sewing girls on piecework tried
various methods. He began with closer individual supervision by the
forewomen. He set up a bulletin board and posted daily the names of the
five highest operators. He added small cash prizes weekly. He adopted a
modified bonus system framed so as not to interfere with the established
average of winter tasks. With each his success was only partial. Ten or a
dozen of the more energetic girls responded to the stimulus; on the majority
the effect was slight.

The problem was serious. June, July, and August comprised the season
when his prod- <p 165> <p 166> ucts were at a premium, when future
orders were frequently lost because partial deliveries could not be made
immediately. Studying the question, he noted specifically, what he already
knew, that the output dropped as the temperature rose. A cool day
sandwiched into a week of hot weather frequently equaled the best winter
records. This fact, coupled with the observation that the spirit of his
working force seemed to change with the change of temperature from warm
to cold, helped him to arrive at the right solution.

He made the discovery sitting in the draught of an electric fan. He looked
up, made a mental note; and next morning he moved his office ``comforter''
out to the head of one file of machines. The draught tangled the goods
under the seamstresses' hands at times, but the half dozen girls within range

showed a decided increase in production over the day before and over
operators at other tables.

He had found his remedy for the summer slump. Within a week he had
installed a system of large overhead fans and an exhaust <p 167> blower
and saw his production figures mount to the winter's best average. From
careless, indifferent workers, on edge at trifles and difficult to hold, his
force developed steadiness and efficiency. Not only was the output
increased twenty per cent over previous summers, but the proportion of
spoiled work was considerably reduced.

One of the women who had been a subject of the first day's experiment
struck close to the reason of her greater efficiency in her off-hand answer to
his inquiry.

``It was a pleasure to work to-day. It was so comfortable after yesterday
you just forgot the other girls, forgot you wanted to rest, forgot everything
but the seams you were running and the fact that it was a big day. I'm not
near so tired as usual either.''

A successful day is likely to be a restful one, an unsuccessful day an
exhausting one. The man who is greatly interested in his work and who
finds delight in overcoming the difficulties of his calling is not likely to
become so tired as the man for whom the work is a burden. <p 168>

The experience related summarizes the experience of every worker who
has studied, either on his own initiative or at some other's instance, the
effect upon output secured by the removal of distressing or displeasing
conditions from the workroom.

The man who has been engaged in intellectual or manual labor finds
himself more or less exhausted when the day's work is done. The degree of

exhaustion varies greatly from day to day and is not in direct proportion to
the amount of energy expended or the results attained. A comparatively
busy day may leave him feeling fresh, while at the end of a day much less
occupied he may be utterly ``dragged out'' and weary.

Some men habitually find themselves fatigued, while others ordinarily
end the day with a feeling of vigor. These contrary effects are not
necessarily due primarily to disparity in the amount of energy spent or to
unequal stores of energy available. The discrepancy in many instances is
due to diverse attitudes toward the work or varying <p 169> degrees of
success which has attended the work.

Pleasure secured in and from work is the best preventive and balm for
tired muscles and jaded brains. Dislike or discomfort, on the other hand,
adds to toil by sapping the strength of the worker.

Victory in intercollegiate athletic events depends on will power and
physical endurance. This is particularly apparent in football. Frequently it is
not the team with the greater muscular development or speed of foot that
wins the victory, but the one with the more grit and perseverance. At the
conclusion of a game players are often unable to walk from the field and
need to be carried. Occasionally the winning team has actually worked the
harder and received the more serious injuries. Regardless of this fact, it is
usually true that the victorious team leaves the field less jaded than the
conquered team. Furthermore the winners will report next day refreshed and
ready for further training, while the losers may require several days to <p
170> overcome the shock and exhaustion of their defeat.

Recently I had a very hard contest at tennis. Some hours after the game I
was still too tired to do effective work. I wondered why, until I remembered
that I had been thoroughly beaten, and that, too, by an opponent whom I felt
I outclassed. I had been in the habit of playing even harder contests and

ordinarily with no discomfort—especially when successful in winning the
match.

What I have found so apparent in physical exertion is equally true in
intellectual labor. Writing or research work which progresses satisfactorily
leaves me relatively fresh; unsuccessful efforts bring their aftermath of
weariness.

Intellectual work which is pleasant is stimulating and does not fag one,
while intellectual work which is uninteresting or displeasing is depressing
and exhausting.

We can readily trace the source of energy in mechanical devices. The
hands of a clock continue in their course because of the energy <p 171>
locked up in a compressed spring or elevated weight. The gun projects the
bullet because of the sudden chemical union of carbon with saltpeter and
sulphur. The steam engine takes its energy from the steam secured by
combustion of coal or other fuel.

The work of the human organism is usually classified as muscular or
intellectual. In either the expenditure of energy is as dependent upon known
causes as is the activity of the mechanical devices mentioned above.

Every muscular activity is dependent upon muscular cells ready for
combustion; without such combustion no muscular work is performed.

Every intellectual process is likewise dependent upon brain cells ready
for combustion, and no intellectual work can be performed without
combustion of these brain cells.

To secure continued activity the clock must be rewound, the gun must be
recharged, more coal must be supplied to the engine. In like manner the

continuation of muscular and in- <p 172> tellectual activity depends upon
the restoration of muscle and brain cells. The necessity for renewal is
greater or less according to the amount stored in reserve and the rapidity of
consumption. A maximum head of steam may keep the engine running for a
long time unless the load is too heavy or the speed too great. Though under
certain conditions the amount of muscle and brain energy stored in reserve
is large, continuous or rapid activity of necessity expends the reserve and
leads to exhaustion.

It is a simple process to rewind the clock, to reload the gun, and to
replenish the fuel. To restore muscular and nerve cells is a very delicate
process. So wonderful is the human organism, however, that the process is
carried on perfectly without our consciousness or volition except under
abnormal conditions.

Food and air are the first essentials of this restoration. Indirectly the
perfect working of all the bodily organs contribute to the process —
especially deepened breathing, heightened pulse, and increase of bodily
volume due <p 173> to the expansion of the blood vessels running just
beneath the skin.

Here pleasure enters. Its effect on the expenditure of energy is to make
muscle and brain cells more available for consumption, and particularly to
hasten the process of restoration or recuperation.

The deepened breathing supplies more air for the oxidation of body
wastes. The heightened pulse carries nourishment more rapidly to the
depleted tissues and relieves the tissues more rapidly from the poisonous
wastes produced by work. The body, the machine, runs more smoothly, and
fewer stops for repairs are made necessary.

In addition to these specific functions, pleasure hastens all the bodily
processes which are of advantage to the organism. The hastening may be so
great that recuperation keeps pace with the consumption consequent on
efficient labor, with the result that there is little or no exhaustion. This is in
physiological terms the reason why a person can do more when he ``enjoys''
his work or play, and can <p 174> continue his efforts for a longer period
without fatigue. The man who enjoys his work requires less time for
recreation and exercise, for his enjoyment recharges the storage battery of
energy.

Not only can I endure more and achieve more when I take pleasure in the
task, but I can also secure better results from others by providing for their
interest and for their pleasure in what they are doing. This is a fact which
wise merchants and employers have felt intuitively, but in most instances
the principle has not been consciously formulated. High-grade stores do
much to add to the pleasure of their customers. Every resource of art and
architecture is employed to make store rooms appeal to the <ae>sthetic
sense and the appreciation of customers. Clerks are instructed to be obliging
and courteous. Employees are not allowed to dress in a style likely to offend
a customer and they are schooled in manners and in speech. Space is
devoted to the convenience and comfort of customers. <p 175>

The most successful establishments in the world are the ones which do
most to please their patrons—not by cutting prices or simply by supplying
better goods, but by expediting and making more pleasant the purchase of
goods.

They have discovered that customers inducted into a beautiful shop and
surrounded by tactful obliging clerks are more willing to buy and are more
likely to be satisfied with what they purchase. By adding to their patrons'
comfort and pleasure they are able to accomplish more than by any other

selling argument. In like manner, restaurants and hotels have learned that
splendid rooms, flowers, spotless linen, well-dressed and courteous waiters,
good furniture, and so on, all attract customers and induce them to order
more generously.

Lawyers find in trying cases that it is quite essential to regard the mood
of clients, juries, and judges. The pleased man is not suspicious; he does not
hesitate in coming to a conclusion, and he is not likely to impute evil
motives to the actions of others. As has been <p 176> well said by Dickens,
when speaking from the viewpoint of the defendant, ``A good, contented,
well-breakfasted juryman is a capital thing to get hold of. Discontented or
hungry jurymen always find for the plaintiff.''

The salesman with a pleasing personality is able to sell more goods than
others less happily endowed. Some salesmen try to supplement this power
—or supply the lack of a pleasing personality—by ``jollying'' the possible
customer in various ways. Dinners, theaters, cigars, and various other
devices are thus used, and in many instances with success.

Modern business employs such methods less and less, chiefly because the
customer recognizes the purpose of the attempt, and either refuses to accept
the ``hospitality'' or is on his guard to resist the effect. A pleasing
personality, however, inspires confidence, tends to put the customer in a
good humor and optimistic mood, and results in sales.

A cold, formal manner, ill temper, or a pessimistic outlook, on the
contrary, will <p 177> handicap the sale of the best merchandise made.

A man is said to be suggestible when he comes to conclusions or acts
without due deliberation. Suggestion, then, is nothing but the mental
condition which causes us to believe and respond without the normal
amount of weighing of evidence. While in a suggestible condition we are

credulous, responsive, and impulsive. Such a mental condition is favored
and induced by pleasure. Discomfort or dissatisfaction with the conditions
or surroundings prompts the opposing attitude; we become suspicious and
slow to act or believe. While in a suggestible condition, we place our orders
freely and promptly. The merchant who can please his customers and bring
them to a suggestible mood before he displays his wares, therefore, has
done much to secure generous sales.

Advantageous results from suggestion are not limited to the relationship
between buyer and seller.

The pleased and satisfied employee is open <p 178> to the suggestions of
foreman and manager and responds with an enthusiasm impossible of
generation in one dissatisfied from any cause.

Methods of insuring this pleasure in work for employees are yet in the
formative stage. Until recently the want of such methods, indeed, was not
felt. The slave driver with the most profane vocabulary and the greatest
recklessness in the use of fist and foot was supposed to be the most
effective type of boss. The task system set an irreducible minimum for the
day's work; the employer exacted the task and assumed that no better way
of handling men could be devised. Piecework rates provided a better and
more reasonable basis for securing something like a maximum day's work;
bonus and premium systems have carried the incentive of the wage in
increasing efficiency to the last point short of co<o:>perative organization.
But all of these systems fall short in assuming that men are machines; that
their powers and capacities are fixed quantities; that the efficiency of a
well-disposed and industrious employee ought to be proof against <p 179>
varying conditions or environment; that a man can achieve the desired
standard, if only he has the will to achieve it.

Discipline has become less brutal if not less strict. The laborer works, not
alone to avoid poverty and hunger, but to secure the means of pleasure.

It is not so long since harsh discipline was common both in homes and in
business. The boy worked hard because he was afraid not to. The man
labored because poverty threatened him if idle. We were in what might be
called a ``pain economy''; we worked to escape pain. To-day this has largely
been changed.

Employers, too, are experimenting boldly with the idea of creating
pleasure in work. The first step has been taken in the very general
elimination of the old wasteful, neglectful elements of factory and office
environment. Comfort, the first neutral element of pleasure, is provided for
employees just as solid foundations are provided for the factory buildings.
There is light, heat, and ventilation where a generation ago there were tiny
windows, <p 180> shadows, lonely stoves, and foul air. Cleanliness is
provided and preserved; not a few of the larger industries employ a regular
corps of janitors to keep floors, walls, and windows clean. The walls are
tinted; the lights are arranged so as to provide the right illumination without
straining the workers' eyes. The departments are symmetrically arranged;
the aisles are wide; the working space is ample; there is no fear to haunt
machine tenders that a mis- step or a moment of forgetfulness will entangle
them in a neighboring machine. The factory buildings themselves, without
being pretentious, have pleasing, simple lines and unobtrusive
ornamentation. They look like, and are, when the human equation does not
interfere, *pleasant places to work in.

This is the typical modern factory; thousands can be found in America.
On this foundation of good working conditions and pleasant environment,
many companies have built more or less elaborate systems of welfare work,
whose effectiveness in creating pleasure and efficiency seem to depend on

the <p 181> purpose and spirit of the men behind them. These systems
frequently begin with beautification of the factory premises and workrooms
—window boxes, factory lawns, ivied walls, trees, and shrubs—and
advance by various stages to lunch rooms for workers, factory libraries, rest
rooms for women workers, factory nurses and physicians, and sometimes
the development of a social life among employees through picnics, lectures,
dances, night schools, and like activities. The methods employed are too
diverse and too recent to permit an accurate estimate of their work or a true
analysis of the elements of their success. It is incumbent on the employer to
find or work out for himself the method best suited to his individual needs.

To understand how pleasure heightens the suggestibility of the individual
it is but necessary to consider the well-known effects which pleasure has on
the various bodily and mental processes.

The action of pleasure and displeasure upon the muscles of the body is
most apparent. With displeasure the muscles of the forehead <p 182>
contract; folds and wrinkles appear. The corners of the mouth are drawn
down; the head bowed; the shoulders stoop and draw together over the
breast; the chest is contracted; the fingers of the hand close, and there is
also a tendency to bend the arms so as to protect the fore part of the body.
In displeasure the body is thus seen to contract and to put itself on the
defensive. It closes itself to outside influences and attempts to ``withdraw
within its shell.''

With pleasure the forehead is smoothed out; the corners of the mouth are
lifted; the head is held erect; the shoulders are thrown back; the chest is
expanded; the fingers of the hand are opened, and the arm is ready to go out
to grasp any object. The whole body is thrown into a receptive attitude. It is
prepared to be affected by outside stimulations and is ready to profit by
them.

That these characteristic bodily attitudes of pleasure and displeasure have
an effect on the mind is evident. Bodily and mental attitudes have
developed together in the history <p 183> of the race. The conditions which
cause a receptive attitude of body cause also a suggestible state of mind.
The conditions which call for bodily protection also demand a suspicious
and non-responsive attitude of mind. The bodily and the mental attitudes
have become so intimately associated that the presence of one assures the
presence of the other.

Pleasure and a particular attitude of body are indissolubly united, and
when these two are present, a suggestible condition of mind seems of
necessity to follow.

Thus by the subtle working of pleasant impressions the customer is
disarmed of his suspicion and made ready to respond to the suggestions of
the merchant.

The effect of the suggestible attitude of the body, as produced by
pleasure, is increased by certain other effects which pleasure produces on
the body.

Muscular strength is frequently measured by finding the maximum grip
on a recording instrument. The amount of the grip varies from time to time
and is affected by various <p 184> conditions. One of the phenomena
which has been thoroughly investigated is the effect of pleasure and of pain
on the intensity of the grip. It is well established that pleasure increases the
grip or the available amount of energy. Displeasure reduces the strength.

The total volume of the body would seem to be constant for any
particular short interval of time. Such, however, is not the case.

With pleasure the lungs are filled with air from deepened breathing; the
volume of the limbs is increased by the increased flow of blood. Pleasure
thus actually makes us larger and displeasure smaller.

This increase in muscular strength and bodily volume due to pleasure has
a very decided effect upon the mind. The increase of muscular strength
gives us a feeling of power and assurance, the increase in volume gives us a
feeling of expansion and importance. These conditions produced by
increase of muscular strength and bodily volume contribute to the general
suggestible condition described above.

If I am in a suggestible condition and if I <p 185> also feel an unusual
degree of assurance in my own powers and importance, I shall have such
confidence in the wisdom of my intended acts that there will seem to be no
ground for delay. Furthermore the increased action of the heart, due to the
effect of pleasure, gives me a feeling of buoyancy and invigoration which
adds appreciably to the tendency to action.

We thus see why pleasure renders us more suggestible and hence makes
us more apt to purchase proffered merchandise or to respond to the
suggestions of our foreman or our executive. We also see why it is that a
man may increase his efficiency by pleasing those with whom he has to
work, whether they be customers or employees.

CHAPTER VIII
THE LOVE OF THE GAME

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

THE motives discussed in previous chapters are fairly adequate for
developing efficiency in all except the owner or chief executive. The
employee may imitate and compete with his equals and his superiors; he
may work for his wage, and he may be loyal to the house. To increase the
industry and enthusiasm of the head is a task of supreme importance.
Interest and enthusiasm must be kindled at the top that the spark may be
passed down to the lower levels. It can never travel in the opposite
direction.

How, then, is the president to light his fires and transmit his enthusiasm
to his managers and other subordinates? Not by working for <p 186> <p
187> money alone, nor through imitation, competition, or loyalty to the
works of his own hands. All these may be essential, may be powerful
subordinate incentives to action, but singly or collectively they are not
adequate. In any organization, the head who attains the maximum of
success must depend for his enthusiasm upon an instinctive love of the
game.

The subordinate possessing such love of the game and independent of
others for his enthusiasm is sure to rise. The subject is, therefore, of vital
importance both to the executive and to the ambitious employee. Every
employer feels the need of such an attitude towards work, both in himself
and in his men.

An attempt will be made in this chapter to comprehend this instinctive
love of the game, to discuss to what extent it is inherited and to what extent
subject to cultivation, and to analyze the conditions most favorable for its
development in respect to one's own work as well as that of his employees.

The love of the game is in part instinctive, <p 188> and its nature is made
clear by consideration of certain of the instincts of animals.

The young lion spends much time in pretended stalking of game and in
harmless struggles with his mates. He takes great delight in the exercise of
his cunning and in his strength of limb and jaw. Fortunately for the young
lion this is the sort of activity best adapted to develop his strength of muscle
and his cunning in capturing prey. However, it is not for the sake of the
training that the young lion performs these particular acts. He does them
simply because he loves to. In like manner the young greyhound chasing his
mates and the young squirrel gathering and storing nuts have no thought
beyond the instinctive pleasure they find in performing these functions. To
each there is no other form of activity so satisfactory.

Man possesses more instincts than any of the lower animals. One
pronounced instinct in all normal males is the hunting instinct. Grover
Cleveland went fishing because he loved the sport, not because of the value
of <p 189> the fish caught. Theodore Roosevelt did not hunt big game in
Africa because he was in need of luscious steaks or tawny hides. He was
not working solely in the interest of the Smithsonian Institute nor to secure
material for his book. Doubtless these were subsidiary motives, but the
chief reason why he killed the game was that he instinctively loves the
sport. He endured the hardships of Africa for the same reason that
fishermen spend days in the icy water of a trout stream and hunters lie still
for hours suffering intense cold for a chance to shoot at a bear.

For some men, buying and selling is as great a delight as felling a deer.
For others the manufacture of goods is as great a joy as landing a trout.
For such a man enthusiasm for his work is unfailing and industry
unremittent.

He is suited to his task as is the cub to the fight, the puppy to the chase,
the squirrel to the burying of nuts, or the hunter to the killing of game. His
labor always appeals to him as the thing of supremest moment. His interest

in it is such that it never fails to in- <p 190> spire others by contagion. For
such a man laziness or indifference in business seems anomalous, while
industry and enthusiasm are as natural as the air he breathes and as
inexhaustible as the air itself.

By classifying the love of the game as an instinct, we seem to admit that
it is born and not developed; that some men possess it and others do not;
that if a man possesses it, he does not need to cultivate it, and that if he does
not possess, he cannot acquire it. There is doubtless much truth in this, but
fortunately it is not the whole truth.

Some instincts are specific—even stereotyped —and not subject to
cultivation or change. Thus the bee's instinctive method of gathering and
storing honey is very specific and definite. The bee is unable to modify its
routine to any great extent. The bee which does not instinctively perform
the different acts properly will never learn to.

There are other instincts not so stereotyped in manner or constant in
degree. The instincts of man are much more variable than <p 191> those of
the lower animals and are much more subject to direction, inhibition, or
development. If this love of the game were solely a matter of inheritance, if
the business genius were born and not made, and if it could not be
cultivated and developed, our hope for the improvement of the race would
be small.

Potential geniuses exist in large numbers but fail of discovery because
they are not developed. Instincts manifest themselves only in the presence
of certain stimulating conditions. They are developed by exercise and
stimulated further by the success attending upon their exercise.

Thus certain conditions, more or less definite, are effective in
determining the line along which instincts shall manifest themselves, and

the extent to which the instincts shall be developed and then ultimately
supplemented by experience and reason.

Fortunately we have reason to believe that although the business genius
must have a good inheritance, yet the inheritance does not determine what
its possessor shall make of himself. <p 192> Many persons are inclined to
overestimate the influence of inheritance in determining success in
business. The folly of this attitude is every day becoming more and more
apparent.

The conditions essential for developing the love of the game in business
may be summarized under three heads:—

First, a man will develop a love of the game in any business in which he
is led to assume a responsibility, to take personal initiative, to feel that he is
creating something, and that he is expressing himself in his work.

As organizations become larger and more complex in their methods,
there is a corresponding increase in the difficulty of making the employees
retain and develop this feeling of independent and creative responsibility.
Business has become so specialized and the work of the individual seems so
petty that he is not likely to feel that he is expressing himself through his
work or to retain a feeling of independence. Properly conceived, there is no
position in trade or industry which does not warrant such <p 193> an
attitude. To promote this attitude various devices have been adopted by
business firms. Some try to put a real responsibility on each employee and
to make him feel it. Others have devised forms of partnership which give
numerous employees shares in the business and so help to develop this
attitude.

In developing men for responsible positions this attitude must be secured
and retained even while they are occupying the lesser positions.

Few things so stimulate a boy as the feeling that he is responsible for a
certain task, that he is expressing himself in it, that he is creating something
worth while.

Many managers and more foremen are unable to develop this feeling in
their subordinates because they assume all the responsibility and allow
those under them no share of it. On the other hand, some executives have
the happy faculty of inspiring this attitude in all their men. The late
Marshall Field made partners of his lieutenants and encouraged them to
assume responsibility and to do <p 194> creative work. As a result they
developed a love of the game—a fact to which he owed much of his
phenomenal success.

The second condition or factor in the development of the love of the
game in business is social prestige.

We have but partially expressed the nature of man when we have spoken
of him as delighting in independent self-expression, as being self-centered
and self-seeking. Man is inherently social in his nature and desires nothing
more than the approval of his fellows. That which society approves we do
with enthusiasm. We change our forms of amusements, our manner of life,
and our daily occupations according to the whims of society. Fifteen years
ago the riding of bicycles was quite the proper thing, and we all trained
down till we could ride a century. To-day we are equally enthusiastic in
lowering bogy on the golf course. This change in our ambitions is not
because it is inherently more fun to beat bogy than to ride a century. The
change has come about simply because of the change of <p 195> social
prestige secured from the two forms of amusement.

We may expect to find enthusiastic industry in the accomplishment of
any task which society looks upon as particularly worthy. During the past
few decades in America society has given the capitalist unusual honor and

has allowed him monetary rewards unprecedented in the history of the
world.

If the capitalist had been honored less than the poet, the preacher, or the
soldier, and his material rewards fallen below theirs, our money captains
would have been fewer in number.

In spite of occasional muck rakings, society's esteem for the capitalist has
been unbounded. He is in general the only man with a national reputation.
Society bestows upon him unstinted praise and the most generous rewards
for his toil. His rewards are so extravagant that the game seems worthy of
every effort he can put forth. Love of the game has consequently been
engendered within him, and his enthusiasm has been unbounded. <p 196>

This motive of social prestige is less easy of application to the humbler
ranks of employees.

Most men engaged in the industries are entirely deprived of the stimulus
because their social group does not look with approval upon their daily
tasks. It may even despise men for doing well work essential as preparatory
to better positions. There are many young men engaged in perfectly worthy
employment who prefer that their social set should not know of the exact
nature of their work for fear it would be regarded as menial and not
sufficiently ``swell.''

This disrespect for honest toil is due to various causes. One cause is that
nearly all young men—and indeed most older men too—look upon their
present positions merely as stepping stones. They look forward to
promotion and more interesting work. They and their social group fail to
accord dignity to the work which they are doing at any time.

Another reason why the motive of social prestige has no effect in the
more humble <p 197> positions is that in business we have practically
abandoned the standard of the artist and adopted that of the capitalist. The
artist's standard is diametrically opposed to the capitalistic standard. We
honor the capitalist not for what he does, but for the money he gets for what
he does. We honor the artist for what he does and never because of the
monetary considerations which follow his creation.

To substitute the standard of the artist for the standard of the capitalist
would be impossible in business, yet a harmonious working of the two is
possible.

Such a harmony was probably present in the old industrial guilds, which
developed a class consciousness creating its own ideals. Within the guild
the most skillful workman had the highest honor. The work itself,
independent of the money which might be received for it, was uppermost in
the worker's mind.

The executive seeking to stimulate love of the game among his workmen
should in some way see that social approval attaches itself <p 198> to the
work as such and not to the wage which is secured by means of the work.
The workmen must be given an interest in the work as well as in the wage.

Executives everywhere find that ``getting together'' with others engaged
in the same work is most stimulating. We are inspired by the presence of
others engaged in the same sort of work and giving approval to success in
our particular field.

The third condition for securing a love of the game is that the work itself
must appeal to the individual as something important and useful.

Its useful function must be apparent, and the necessity and advantage of
perfect performance must be emphasized. I play golf because the game
permits me to assert myself and engage in independent and exhilarating
activity. My devotion to my professional tasks, however, is dependent upon
the fact that I regard psychology, whether the work be in research or
instruction, as of the greatest importance to science and to mankind in
general. The work as a whole and all the <p 199> details of it seem to me to
be important. In performing my daily tasks they seem to me to be worthy of
the most persistent and enthusiastic effort.

Doubtless there are classes of work incapable of appealing to individuals
as does my work to me. But in many instances work seems menial and
ignoble because it is not understood. It is not seen in its relationships and
broader aspects. The single task as performed by the individual is so small
and so specialized that it does not seem worth while.

The dignity of labor demands that the workman should respect the work
of his hands.

He should look upon his accomplished tasks as of inherent dignity
independent of the monetary recompense to be received. To keep the
workman's efficiency keyed up, the employer should see to it that this
broader aspect of labor is emphasized and that the day laborer finds some
reason for his labor besides his wage. It is the only game he may ever have
time to play. It is to the interest of <p 200> himself, his employer, and
society at large that he should enter enthusiastically into it and be ennobled
by it.

Professional, technical, and vocational schools are serving a noble
function in emphasizing the dignity of the work for which they are preparing
young men.

They are more and more presenting the broader aspects of the subjects
taught. Even the altruistic and extremely technical aspects of the subject are
found profitable. The narrower and apparently the more practical course
does not result so successfully as the broader and more cultural ones.

The boy who goes direct into work from the public school is not likely to
c<o:>ordinate his task with the general activity of the establishment, and he
is not likely to see how he is in anyway contributing to the welfare of
humanity by his work. He needs to be shown how each line of industry and
profession serves a great function, has an interesting history, and is vitally
connected with many of the most important human interests. He should
learn <p 201> to see how the different cogs are essential and worthy factors
in the total process. The boy who thus comprehends his task looks upon it
and is inspired by it in a way that would otherwise be quite impossible.

Some of the most successful houses have been so impressed with the
importance of this form of industrial education that at their own expense
they have established night schools for new employees as well as for those
who have been years with the firm. Not only are the students taught how to
perform their respective tasks, but a broader program is attempted.
Sometimes an attempt is made to lead the students to appreciate the dignity
of the particular activity in which the firm is engaged. The history of the
firm is then fully presented so that the employees will comprehend the part
the house has actually taken in the world. Some firms try to show each man
how his work is related to the work of the house as a whole and to other
departments. In various ways schools and individual firms are successfully
attempting to inject a nobler regard <p 202> and appreciation for labor. The
result is most gratifying and manifests itself in increased enthusiasm and
other expressions of the increased love of the game.

The three conditions which we have been considering for developing the
love of the game are quite different, appeal to the different sides of the
individual, and are not all equally applicable to the young man who seeks to
become a leader among his fellows or to the manager of men who seeks to
develop leaders.

The attitude of independent, creative responsibility appeals to our
individualistic and self-centered self. It is an attitude that may be assumed
by the ambitious young man and encouraged by the manager. It is
absolutely indispensable for developing this much-coveted love of the game
in any form of useful endeavor. It is readily assumed or developed in the
chief executive, but may be developed in subordinates with great difficulty.

Social prestige appeals to our selfishly social natures, and yet the desire
to secure this <p 203> social favor is in the main ennobling. It is of special
value to the manager of large groups of men. The manager may create the
social atmosphere which is most favorable to the development of the love
of the game in his particular industry.

The last condition discussed, regard for the work as important and as
useful, makes its appeal to our nobler and what we might in some instances
speak of as our altruistic selves. This condition is equally serviceable to the
ambitious youth and to the successful superintendent of men. We all look
out for number one, but appeals made to the higher self are not unavailing.
We are most profoundly stirred when we are appealed to from all sides.
However, the love of the game will never be universal in the professional
and industrial world. We can scarcely imagine the millennium when all
employees would cease to despise their toil and cease to serve for pay
alone.

CHAPTER IX
RELAXATION

AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY

Be not therefore anxious for the Morrow

A STUDY of the lives of great men is both interesting and profitable. In
such a study we are amazed at the records of the deeds of the men whom
the world calls great. The results of the labors of Hercules seem to be
approximated according to many of these truthful accounts.

In studying the lives of contemporary business men two facts stand out
prominently. The first is that their labors have brought about results that to
most of us would have seemed impossible. Such men appear as giants, in
comparison with whom ordinary men sink to the size of pygmies.

The second fact which a study of successful <p 204> <p 205> business
men (or any class of successful men) reveals is that they never seem rushed
for time.

Men noted for efficiency almost never appear to be hurried. They have
plenty of time to accomplish their tasks, and therefore can afford to take
their work leisurely.

Such men have time to devote to objects in no way connected with their
business. It cannot be regarded as accidental that this characteristic of mind
is found so commonly among successful men during the years of their most
fruitful labor.

According to the American Ideal, the man who is sure to succeed is one
who is continuously ``keyed up to concert pitch,'' who is ever alert and is

always giving attention to his business or profession. As far as the captains
of industry are concerned, such is not the case. They devote relatively few
hours a day to their strenuous toil, but they keep a cool head and a steady
hand. They are always composed, never confused, but ever ready to attack a
new problem with their maximum ability. They <p 206> follow the
injunction of Christ expressed in His Sermon on the Mount: ``Be not
therefore anxious for the morrow.''

Of all the nations of the world, Americans are supposed to be the hardest
working. We have attributed our industrial success to the fact that there is a
bustle and snap to our work which are not equaled in any other country. But
recent students of the industrial world are now telling us that even in the
case of day and piece labor this characteristic is frequently a weakness
rather than an advantage. They say that the American product ``suffers from
hurry, want of finish, and want of solidity.''— ``Industrial Efficiency,''
Arthur Shadwell, Vol. 1, p. 26.

In the great middle class of American society, there is a lack of repose
and an absence of relaxation which astonishes foreign observers.

They tell us that we are wild-eyed and too intense. Dr. Clauston of
Scotland is quoted as saying:—

``You Americans wear too much expression in your faces. You are living
like an army <p 207> with all its reserves engaged in action. The duller
countenance of the British population betokens a better scheme of life. They
suggest stores of reserved nervous force to fall back upon, if any occasion
should arise that requires it. The inexcitability, this presence at all times of
power not used, I regard as the great safeguard of our British people. The
other thing in you gives me a sense of insecurity, and you ought somehow
to tone yourselves down. You do really carry too much expression, you take
too intensely the trivial moments of life.''

The late Professor William James of Harvard makes the following
pertinent remark concerning the overtension of Americans:—

``Your intense, convulsive worker breaks down and has bad moods so
often that you never know where he may be when you most need his help,
—he may be having one of his `bad days.' We say that so many of our
fellow-countrymen collapse, and have to be sent abroad to rest their nerves,
because they work so hard. I suspect that this is an im- <p 208> mense
mistake. I suspect that neither the nature nor the amount of our work is
accountable for the frequency and severity of our breakdowns, but that their
cause lies rather in those absurd feelings of hurry and having no time, in
that breathlessness and tension, that anxiety of feature and that solicitude of
results, that lack of inner harmony and ease, in short, by which with us the
work is apt to be accompanied, and from which a European who should do
the same work would nine times out of ten be free. . . . It is your relaxed
and easy worker, who is in no hurry, and quite thoughtless most of the while
of consequences, who is your efficient worker; and tension and anxiety, and
present and future, all mixed up together in one mind at once, are the surest
drags upon steady progress and hindrances to our success.''—``Talks to
Teachers,'' pp. 214- 218.

Mr. Joseph Lyons, who is recognized as one of the particularly active and
efficient men of England, has taken great interest in the way things are done
in America. And after ob- <p 209> serving us at work here he expressed
himself as dissatisfied with the tension under which we work. His words
areas follows:—

``I do not believe in what Americans call hustling. The American hustler
in my opinion does not represent the highest type of human efficiency. He
wastes a lot of nervous power and energy instead of accomplishing the
greatest possible amount of work for the force expended. Judging the

American hustler from my observation of him in his own country, I should
say that the American hustler shows a lack of adaptation of means to ends
because he puts more mental, physical, and nervous energy into his work at
all times than it demands. Regarded as a machine he is not an economical
one. He breaks down too often and has to be laid off for repairs too often.
He tries to do everything too fast.''

When Mr. Lyons was asked to explain how he had been able to
accomplish so much without hustling, he replied: ``By organizing myself to
run smoothly as well as my business; by schooling myself to keep cool, and
to do <p 210> what I have to do without expending more nervous energy on
the task than is necessary; by avoiding all needless friction. In consequence,
when I finish my day's work, I feel nearly as fresh as when I started.''—
Quoted from New York Herald, Aug. 30, 1910.

RELAXATION A PHYSIOLOGICAL NECESSITY

The necessity for relaxation is adherent in the human organism. Even those
life processes which seem to be constant in their activity require frequent
periods of complete rest.

The heart beats regularly and at short intervals, but after each beat its
muscles come into a state of complete relaxation and enjoy a refreshing
rest, even though it be but for a moment. Likewise the lungs seem to be
unceasing in their activity, but a careful study of their action discloses the
fact that every contraction is followed by a perfect relaxation, and that the
rest secured between successive respirations is adequate for recuperations.

In all bodily processes the same alternation is discovered. No bodily
activity is at all con- <p 211> tinuous. Mental processes, too, can be
continued for but a very short time. By attempting to eliminate these

periods of rest for bodily and mental acts, we merely exhaust without a
corresponding increase in efficiency. The laws of nature are firm and
countenance no infringement.

The periods between activity and rest, as well as the durations of the two
processes, may be changed. Thus, up to a certain limit, the periods devoted
to activity may follow more rapidly and endure longer. There is, however, a
danger point which may not be passed with impunity. The danger signal
may manifest itself in several ways: The over- trained athlete becomes
``stale''; the over- worked brain worker becomes nervous; the overworked
laborer becomes indifferent and generally inefficient.

In all these and in similar instances, the amount of energy expended is
out of proportion to the results of the labor. The athletic trainer has learned
to guard against overtraining and is severely condemned for making <p
212> such a mistake. The brain worker often regards overwork as a
commendable thing. However, sentiment is changing. The employer of
labor is finding that rest and relaxation are essential to the greatest
efficiency. Employees accomplish as much in a week of six days as they do
in one of seven. The reduction in the hours of daily toil has not decreased
the total efficiency.

The periods devoted to rest are not as profitable as they should be unless
they are actually devoted to recuperation. It may be that some of the time
supposed to be devoted to rest should be devoted to thoughts of toil. Again
during the hours of work there should be a freedom from jerkiness,
breathlessness, nervousness, and anxiety. It is not necessarily true that the
greatest and most constant display of energy accompanies the greatest
presence of energy. The tugboat in the river is constantly blowing off steam
and making a tremendous display of energy, while the ocean liner proceeds
on its way without noise and without commotion. The still current runs <p

213> deep, and the man who is actually accomplishing the most is
frequently—perhaps always the man who is making the least display of his
strength. He can afford to be calm and collected, for he is equal to his task.
The man who frets and fumes, who is nervous and excited, who is strung up
to such a pitch that energy is being dissipated in all directions— such a man
proclaims his weakness from the housetop.

Many business men know they are going at a pace that kills, and at the
same time they feel that they are accomplishing too little. For such, the
pertinent question is, How may I reduce the expenditure of energy without
reducing the efficiency of my labor?

The ability to relax at will and to remain in an efficient condition, but
free from nervousness, is a thing which may be acquired more or less
completely by all persons. It is accomplished by a voluntary control of the
muscles of the arms, legs, and face, by breathing slowly and deeply, and by
placing the body in a condition of general relaxation. <p 214>

This antecedent condition of relaxation brings all the forces of the mind
and body more completely under control and makes it possible to marshal
them more effectively. It also gives one a feeling of control and assurance,
which minimizes the possibility of confusion and embarrassment in the
presence of an important task. The possibility of developing the power of
relaxation by means of special training is being taken advantage of in
teaching acts of skill, in all forms of mental therapeutics, and in numerous
other instances where overtension hinders the acquisition or
accomplishment of a useful act. By assuming the attitude of assurance and
composure, the actual condition is produced in a manner most astonishing
to those who have never attempted it. No man can do his best when he is
hurried and fearful, when he is expending energy in a manner as useless as
a tug blowing off steam. That relief is within his own power seems to him

impossible. He is not aware of his power of will to change from his state of
anxiety to one of composure. <p 215>

That the gospel of relaxation is more important to the chief executive
than to the day laborer is quite apparent. Even in the case of the day laborer
the crack of the lash and the curse of the driver may have been capable of
securing a display of activity among the laborers, but such means are not
comparable in efficiency to the more modern methods. Laborers are now
given more hours of rest, are not kept fearful and anxious, but are given
short hours of labor and long hours of rest. They are judged by the actual
results of their labor rather than by their apparent activity.

When accomplishing intellectual work of any sort, it is found that worry
exhausts more than labor.

Anxiety as to the results is detrimental to efficiency. The intellectual
worker should periodically make it a point to sit in his chair with the
muscles of his legs relaxed, to breathe deeply, and to assume an attitude of
composure. Such an attitude must not, of course, detract from attention to
the work at hand, but should rather increase it. Upon leaving <p 216> his
office, the brain worker should cultivate the habit of forgetting all about his
business, except in so far as he believes that some particular point needs
special attention out of office hours. The habit of brooding over business is
detrimental to efficiency and is also suicidal to the individual.

It is, of course, apparent to all that relaxation may mean permanent
indifference, and such a condition is infinitely worse than too great a
tension. An employer who is never keyed up to his work, and an employee
who goes about his work in an indifferent manner, are not regarded in the
present discussion.

A complete relaxation of the body often gives freedom to the intellect.
The inventor is often able, when lying in bed, to devise his apparatus with a
perfection impossible when he attempts to study it out in the shop. The
forgotten name will not come till we cease straining for it. Very many of the
world's famous poems have been conceived while the poet was lying in an
easy and relaxed condition. This fact is so well recognized by some <p
217> authors that they voluntarily go to bed in the daytime and get perfectly
relaxed in order that their minds may do the most perfect work. Much
constructive thinking is done in the quiet of the sanctuary, when the
monotony of the liturgy or the voice of the speaker has soothed the quiet
nerves, and secured a composed condition of mind. The preacher would be
surprised if he knew how many costumes had been planned, how many
business ventures had been outlined, all because of the soothing influence
of his words.

This relaxation of the body not only gives freedom to the intellect, but it is
the necessary preliminary condition for the greatest physical exertion and
for the most perfect execution of any series of skillful acts.

Mr. H. L. Doherty not only held the world's championship in tennis, but
he was the despair of his opponents, because of the apparent lack of
exertion which he put forth to meet their volleys. So far as an observer
could judge, Mr. Doherty kept only those muscles tense that were used in
the game. The muscles <p 218> especially necessary for tennis were also,
so far as possible, kept lax except at the instant for making the stroke. Partly
because of this relaxation, his muscles were free from exhaustion and under
such perfect control that at the critical moment he was able to exert a
strength that was tremendous and a skill that was amazing.

In a very striking paragraph Professor James has shown the reason why
poise and efficiency of mind are incompatible with tenseness of muscles:—

``By the sensations that so incessantly pour in from the overtense excited
body the overtense and excited habit of mind is kept up; and the sultry,
threatening, exhausting, thunderous inner atmosphere never quite clears
away. If you never give yourself up wholly to the chair you sit in, but
always keep your leg and body muscles half contracted for a rise; if you
breathe eighteen or nineteen instead of sixteen times a minute, and never
quite breathe out at that,—what mental mood can you be in but one of inner
panting and expectancy, and how <p 219> can the future and its worries
possibly forsake your mind? On the other hand, how can they gain
admission to your mind if your brow be unruffled, your respiration calm
and complete, and your muscles all relaxed?''—``Talks to Teachers,'' p. 211.

In ancient Greece, one of the chief functions of the school was to prepare
citizens to profit by the hours of freedom from toil. Herbert Spencer, in his
great work on Education, gives a prominent place to training for leisure
hours. Such training is attracting the attention of the American educator to-
day as never before. A few decades ago the majority of the American
population lived on farms, spent long hours of the day in toil, and scarcely
thought of recreation. We have now become an urban population, the hours
of labor have been greatly reduced during the days of the week, and Sunday
is a day in which the laborer is found in neither the factory nor the church.

The employer of laborers fears the effect of long hours of freedom from
toil. He has prophesied that such hours would be spent <p 220> in
dissipations. He feared that as a result his laborers would enter their shops
with unsteady hands and sleepy brains. That such results are all too often
due to freedom from toil, no one would deny. That they are not necessary
will also be admitted. One of the problems of the American people as a
whole, and of employers of labor in particular, is to train up the rising
generations so that they may make the best use of the increasing hours of
freedom from labor.

To this end the schools are doing much. Settlement workers are
contributing their part. Welfare work is becoming popular in certain places.
Local clubs are being organized to develop interest in local improvement,
literature, politics, ethics, religion, music, athletics. These agencies are so
beneficial in results that they are being generously encouraged by business
men.

Upon entering business every young man should select some form of
endeavor or activity apart from business to which he shall devote a part of
his attention. This interest should be so <p 221> absorbing that when he is
thus engaged, business is banished from mind.

This interest may be a home and a family; it may be some form of
athletics; it may be club life; it may be art, literature, philanthropy, or
religion. It must be something which appeals to the individual and is
adapted to his capabilities. Some men find it advisable to have more than a
single interest for the hours of recreation. Some form of athletics or of
agriculture is often combined with an interest in art, literature, religion, or
other intellectual form of recreation. Thus Gladstone is depicted as a
woodchopper and as an author of Greek works. Carnegie is described as an
enthusiast in golf and in philanthropy. Rockefeller is believed to be
interested in golf and philanthropy, but his philanthropy takes the form of
education through endowed schools. Carnegie's philanthropy is in building
libraries. If the lives of the great business men are studied it will be found
that there is a great diversity in the type of recreation chosen; but
philanthropy, religion, and athletics are <p 222> very prominent—perhaps
the most popular of the outside interests.

These interests cannot be suddenly acquired. Many a man who has
reached the years of maturity has found to his sorrow that he is without
interests in the world except his specialty or business. With each succeeding

year he finds new interests more difficult to acquire. Hence young men
should in their youth choose wisely some interests to which they may
devote themselves with perfect abandon at more or less regular intervals
throughout life.

The more noble and the more worthy the interest, the better will be the
results when considered from any point of view. Indeed, the interests which
we call the highest are properly so designated, because in the history of
mankind they have proved themselves to be the most beneficial to all.

CHAPTER X
THE RATE OF IMPROVEMENT IN EFFICIENCY

NO novice develops suddenly into an expert. Nevertheless the progress
made by beginners is often astounding. The executive with experience is
not deceived by the showing made by new men. He has learned to accept
rapid initial progress, but he does not assume that this initial rate of increase
will be sustained.

The rate at which skill is acquired has been the subject of many careful
studies. The results have been charted and reduced to curves, variously
spoken of as ``efficiency curves,'' ``practice curves,'' ``learning curves,''
according to the nature of the task or test. Some of these dealt with the
routine work of office and factory. In others typical muscular and mental
activities were observed in a simpler form than could be found in actual
practice. <p 223> <p 224>

Five of my advanced students joined me in strenuous practice in adding
columns of figures for a few minutes daily for a month. Our task was to add

765 one-place figures daily in the shortest possible time. No emphasis was
placed on accuracy, but each one tried to make

{illust. caption = FIG. 1.}

the highest daily record for speed. The results of our practice are
graphically shown in Curve A of Fig. 1. As shown in that curve for the first
day our average speed was only forty-two combinations per minute, but for
the thirtieth day our average was seventy-four combinations per minute, We
did not quite <p 225> double our speed by the practice, and we made but
little improvement in accuracy. The most rapid gain was, as anticipated,
during the first few days. We made but little progress from the sixteenth to
the twenty-third day, and also from the twenty-fourth to the thirtieth day.

Of the six persons practicing addition, five of us also practiced the
making of a maximum grip with a thumb and forefinger. Just before
beginning the adding each day this maximum grip (or pinch) was exerted
once a second for sixty seconds, first with the right hand and then with the
left. Likewise at the completion of the addition sixty grips were taken by
the right hand and sixty by the left. The total pressure exerted by each
individual in the 240 trials (four minutes) was then recorded and expressed
in kilograms. The result of the experiment is shown in curve B of Fig. 1.
The average total pressure for each of the five persons was for the first day
620 kilograms; for the twenty-fourth day 1400 kilograms. Our increase was
very rapid for the <p 226> first few days, and no general slump was
encountered till the last week of practice. In one particular our results in the
test on physical strength were not anticipated—we did not suppose that by
practicing four minutes daily for thirty days we could double our physical
strength in any such a series of maximum grips with the thumb and
forefinger.

It is a simple matter to measure day by day the accomplishment of one
learning to use the typewriter. All beginners who take the work seriously
and work industriously pass through similar stages in this learning process.
Figure 2 represents the record for the first eighty- six days of a learner who
was devoting, in all, sixty minutes daily to actual writing. The numbers to
the left of the figure in the vertical column indicate the number of strokes
(including punctuations and shifts) made in ten minutes. The numbers on
the base line indicate the days of practice. Thus on the ninth day the learner
wrote 700 strokes in the ten minutes; on the fifty-fourth day 1300 strokes;
on the eighty-sixth day over 1400 strokes. <p 227>

Figure 3 represents the results of a writer of some little experience who
spent one hour a day writing a special form of copy.

In this curve it will be observed that the

{illust. caption = FIG. 2.}

increase in efficiency was very great during the first few weeks, but that
during the succeeding weeks little improvement was made.—BOOK, W. R,
``The Psychology of Skill,'' p. 20. <p 228>

The progress of a telegraph operator is determined by the number of
words which he

{illust. caption = FIG. 3.}

can send or receive with accuracy per minute. In learning telegraphy,
progress is rapid for a few weeks and then follow many weeks of less rapid
improvement. Figure 4 presents the <p 229 history of a student of

telegraphy who was devoting all his time to sending and receiving
messages. His speed was measured once a week from his first week to the
time when he

{illust. caption = FIG. 4.}

could be classed as a fully accomplished operator. By the twentieth week
this operator could receive less than 70 letters a minute, although he could
send over 120 letters a minute. At the end of the fortieth week he had <p
230> reached a speed of sending which he would probably never greatly
excel even though his speed was far below that attained by many operators.
The receiving rate might possibly rise either slowly or rapidly until it
equaled or exceeded the sending rate.—BRYAN & HARTER, ``Studies in
the Physiology and Psychology of the Telegraphic Language,''
Psychological Review, Vol. IV, p. 49.

There are certain forms of learning and practice which do not readily
admit of quantitative determinations. Nevertheless very successful attempts
have been made even in the most difficult realms of learning. A beginner
with the Russian language spent 30 minutes daily in industrious study and
then was tested for 15 minutes as to the number of Russian words he could
translate. Figure 5 shows diagrammatically the results of the experiment.
Thus on the thirteenth day 22 words were translated; on the fiftieth day 45
words. Improvement was rather rapid until the nineteenth day, and then
followed a slump till the forty-sixth day. Improvement was very ir- <p 231>
regular.—SWIFT, E. J., ``Mind in the Making,'' p. 198.

These five figures are typical of nearly all

{illust. caption = FIG. 5.}

practice, or learning, curves. They depict the rate at which the beginner
increases his efficiency. In every case we discover very great <p 232>
fluctuations. On one day or at one moment there is a sudden phenomenal
improvement. The next day or even the next moment the increase may be
lost and a return made to a lower stage of efficiency.

There are certain forms of skill which cannot be acquired rapidly in the
beginning. In such instances a period of time is necessary in which to
``warm up'' or in which to acquire the knack of the operation or the
necessary degree of familiarity and self-confidence before improvement
becomes possible. This is true particularly in the ``breaking in'' of new
operators on large machines like steam hammers, cranes, and the like,
where the mass and power of the machine awes the new man, even though
he has had experience with smaller units of some kind. It applies also to
new inspectors of mechanical parts and completed products in factories—
especially where the factor of judgment enters into the operation. Such
instances are exceptions, however, and differ from those cited only in
having a period of slow advance preliminary to the rapid progress. <p 233>

Apparently, improvement should be continuous until the learner has
entered into the class of experts or has reached his possible maximum. As a
matter of fact the curve which expresses his advance towards efficiency
never rises steadily from a low degree to a high one. Periods of
improvement are universally followed by stages of stagnation or
retrogression. These periods of little or no improvement following periods
of rapid improvement are called ``plateaus'' and are found in the experience
of all who are acquiring skill in any line.

These plateaus are not all due to the same cause.

They differ somewhat with individuals and even more with the nature of
the task in which skill is being acquired. With all, however, the following

four factors are the most important influence:—

1. The enthusiasm dependent upon novelty becomes exhausted.

2. All easy improvements have been made.

3. A period of ``incubation'' is needed in <p 234> which the new habits
under formation may have time to develop.

4. Voluntary attention cannot be sustained for a long period of time.

These four factors are not only the causes of the first plateau, but, as soon
as any particular plateau is overcome and advance again begun, they are
likely to arrest the advance and to cause another period of recession or of no
advance. These four factors are therefore most significant to every man who
is trying to increase his own efficiency or promote the progress of others.

When the interest in work is dependent on novelty, the plateau comes
early in the development, and further progress is possible only by the
injection of new motives to action.

Many young persons begin things with enthusiasm, but drop them when
the novelty has worn off. They develop no stable interests and in all their
tasks are superficial. They often have great potential ability, but lack
training in habits of industry and of continued application. They change
positions <p 235> often, acquire much diversified experience, and
frequently, in a new position, give promise of developing unusual skill or
ability. This is due to the fact that during the first weeks or months of their
new employment the novelty of the work stimulates them to activity, and
the methods or habits learned in other trades are available for application to
the new tasks. When the novelty wears off, however, they become wearied
and cast about for a fresh and therefore more alluring field. Such nomads

prove unprofitable employees even when they are the means of introducing
new methods or short cuts into a business. They strike a plateau and lose
interest and initiative just at the point where more industrious and less
superficial men would begin to be of the greatest value.

Plateaus are not confined to clerks and other subordinates. Executives
frequently ``go stale'' on their jobs and lose their accustomed energy and
initiative. Sometimes they are able to diagnose their own condition and
provide the corrective stimulus. Again the <p 236> man higher up, if he has
the wisdom and discernment which some gain from experience, observes
the situation and prescribes for his troubled lieutenant. In the majority of
cases, however, the occupant of a plateau, if he continues thereon for any
length of time, either resigns despondent or is dismissed.

Such a case, coming under my notice recently, illustrates the man-losses
suffered by organizations whose heads do not realize that salaries alone will
not buy efficiency.

A young advertising man had almost grown up with his house, coming to
it when not yet twenty in a minor position in the sales department.
Enthusiastic about his possibilities, with the friendship and co<o:>peration
of his immediate superior, he carried out well the successive duties put to
him. Promotion was rapid. No position was retained more than six months.
In five years he had occupied nearly every subordinate position in the sales
department, and was promoted to the head of the mail-order section. <p
237>

His fertility in originating plans, his schemes, his booklets, and
advertising copy brought results with regularity. He became known as a
man who could ``put the thing over'' in a pinch, with a vigor and enthusiasm
that seemed irresistible. He fairly earned his standing as the live wire
among executives of the second rank.

So, when the general sales manager resigned, there was no question but
that this young man should succeed him. He had been a personal friend of
his predecessor, had co<o:>perated with him in many phases of his work,
and knew his new duties well; in fact, he took them up with little necessity
for ``breaking in.''

This apparently favorable condition was the very reason for his lack of
success in the new work. There was not the novelty in this position that
there had been in his former successive positions. In such an executive
position, it was not a question of taking care of an emergency demand, but
of organization, of establishing routine, of organizing bigger campaigns.
Before the end of the first season it became evi- <p 238> dent that the new
sales manager was not making good. Everything—organization, discipline,
routine system, ginger—had deserted him. Neither he himself nor his
employers, however, found the real cause. ``I have lost my grip,'' he told the
general manager. ``I am worn out and of no further use to this business.''

Furthermore he thought he was of no use to any business. But he made a
connection with a big house which had a large advertising campaign on its
hands. He threw himself into the task of recasting the firm's selling
literature, the planning of new campaigns, and the reorganization of the
correspondence department. Within the year, he had duplicated on a
magnified scale his early triumphs with his first employers. Moreover, he
continued this record of efficiency the second year, thus entirely refuting
the fear of himself and his friends that he would ``last less than a year'' and
that he lacked staying power.

His first employer described the case for me <p 239> the other day,
requesting that I discover the reason for the young man's initial failure
among friends and his subsequent triumph in a new environment. He had
kept in close touch with the other's progress and supplied a hundred details

which helped to make the situation clear. Finally, after consideration, he
agreed with my diagnosis that his young friend's falling off in efficiency—
his plateau—had been due to the exhaustion of novelty interest in his work.

His first success was built on a long series of separate plans or ``stunts,''
each of which was begun and executed in a burst of creative enthusiasm.
His first few months' achievement as sales manager was due to the same
stimulus, but as the months went by the spur of novelty became dulled.
Lacking the discipline which would have enabled him to force voluntary
attention and the resulting interest in his tasks, he failed also to trace the
cause of his flagging invention and energy and assumed that this was due to
exhaustion of his resources. <p 240>

This is further borne out by his experience in his present position.
Addressing a succession of new tasks, the interest of novelty has stimulated
him to an uncommon degree and produced an unbroken record of high
efficiency. That this has continued over a considerable period is partly due,
beyond doubt, to the sustained interest in his work excited by the broadness
of the field before him, the bigness of the company, the size of the
appropriation at his disposal, the unusual experience of scoring hit after hit
by comparison with the house's low standards, the frank and prompt
appreciation of his superiors, and substantial advances in salary.

It is only human to be more or less dependent upon novelty. If I am to stir
myself to continuous and effective exertion, I must frequently stimulate my
interest by proposing new problems and new aspects of my work. If I am to
help others to increase their efficiency, I must devise new appeals to their
interest and new stimulations to action. If I have been dependent upon
competition as a stimulus <p 241> I must change the form of the contest—a
fact which receives daily recognition and application by the most efficient
sales organization in the country. If I have been depending upon the

stimulating effect of wages, there is profit occasionally in varying the
method of payment or in furnishing some new concrete measure of the
value of the wage. To the average worker, for example, a check means
much less than the same amount in gold. In deference to this common
appreciation of ``cold cash,'' various firms have lately abandoned checks
and pay in gold and banknotes, even though this change means many hours
of extra work for the cashier.

At every stage of our learning, progress is aided by the utilization of old
habits and old fragments of knowledge.

In learning to add, the schoolboy employs his previous knowledge of
numbers. In learning to multiply he builds upon his acquaintance with
addition and subtraction. In solving problems in percentage his success is
measured by the freedom with which he can <p 242> use the four
fundamental processes of addition, subtraction, Multiplication, and division.
In computing bank discount, his skill is based on ability to employ his
previous experience with percentage and the fundamental processes of
arithmetic.

The advance here is typical of all learning processes. In mastering the
typewriter no absolutely new movement is required. The old familiar
movements of arm and hand are united in new combinations. The student
has previously learned the letters found in the copy and can identify them
upon the keys of the typewriter. Scrutiny enables him to find any particular
key, and in the course of a few hours be develops a certain awkward
familiarity with the keyboard and acquires some speed by utilizing these
familiar muscular movements and available bits of knowledge. All these
prelearned movements and associations are brought into service in the early
stages of improvement, and a degree of proficiency is quickly attained
which cannot be exceeded so long as these prelearned habits and asso- <p

243> ciations alone are employed. Further advance in speed and accuracy is
dependent upon combinations more difficult to make because they involve
organization of the old and acquisition of new methods of thought or
movement. When such a difficulty is faced, a plateau in the learning curve
is almost inevitable.

The young man who enters upon the work of a salesman can make
immediate use of a multitude of previous habits and previously acquired
bits of knowledge. He performs by habit all the ordinary movements of the
body; by habit he speaks, reads, and writes. During his previous experience
he has acquired some skill in judging people, in addressing them, and in
influencing them. His general information and his practice in debate and
conversation— however crude—enable him to analyze his selling
proposition and unite these selling points into an argument. He learns, too,
to avoid certain errors and to make use of certain factors of his previous
experience. Thus his progress is rapid for a short time but soon <p 244> the
stage is reached where his previous experience offers no more factors which
can be easily brought to his service. In such an emergency the novice may
cease to advance—if indeed there is not a positive retrogression.

Nor is this tendency to strike a plateau confined to clerks in the office and
to semi- skilled men in the factory. Often the limitations of a new executive
are brought out sharply by his failure to handle a situation much less
difficult than scores which he has already mastered and thereby built up a
reputation for unusual efficiency. His collapse, when analyzed, can usually
be traced to the fact that his previous experience contained nothing on
which he could directly base a decision. His prior efficiency was based on
empirical knowledge rather than on judgment or ability to analyze
problems.

The office manager of an important mercantile house is a case in point.
Though young, he had served several companies in the same capacity,
making a distinct advance at each change. He was a trained accountant, <p
245> a clever employment man, and a successful handler of men and
women. His association with the various organizations from which he had
graduated gave him an unusual fund of practical knowledge and tried-out
methods to draw upon.

His first six months were starred with brilliant detail reorganizations. The
shipping department, first; the correspondence division next; the accounting
department third, and he literally swept through the office like the
proverbial new broom, caught up all the loose ends, and established a
routine like clockwork. So successful was his work that the directors
hastened to add supervision of sales and collections.

Forthwith the new manager struck his plateau. His previous experience
offered little he could readily use in shaping a sales policy or laying out a
collection program. He plunged into the details of both, effected some
important minor economies, but failed altogether —as subsequent events
showed—to grasp the constructive needs and opportunities <p 246> of
management. He puzzled and irritated his district managers by
overemphasizing details when they wanted decisions or policies or help in
handling sales emergencies. In the same way, he neglected collections,—
chiefly because he could not distinguish between detail and questions of
policy,—but escaped blame for more than six months because the season
was conceded to be a poor one.

Not till he resigned and the general manager investigated the sales and
collection departments did the real cause of the failure become evident.
Important and numerous as had been the economics instituted, they all fell
under the head of the ``easy improvements '' based on previous experience

and observation. When problems outside this experience presented
themselves, the manager encountered his plateau.

In the acquisition of skill, days of progress are followed by stationary
periods. ``Time must be taken out'' to allow the formation of a habit or the
organization of this new knowledge or skill. <p 247>

All trees and plants have periods of growth followed by periods of little
or no growth. In May and June the leaves and branches shoot forth very
rapidly, but the new growth is pulpy and tender. During succeeding days or
months, these tender shots are filled in and developed. In learning and in
habit formation a similar sequence is lived through. We have days of swift
advancement followed by days in which the new stage or method of
thinking and acting takes time to become organized and solidified. The
nervous system has to adjust itself to the new demands, and such adjusting
requires time.

Although periods of incubation are essential for every specific habit,
practically every act of skill is dependent upon a number of simpler habits.
At any one time progress may be made in utilizing some of these habits,
even though others could not be advantageously hastened. Thus the period
of incubation should not necessarily cause any profound slump in the
advance. Almost invariably, however, it produces a plateau which persists
until the worker <p 248> has mastered the expert way. The golf player, for
example, usually finds he is able to drive longer and straighter balls at the
beginning of the season than a little later. The reason is that in golf the
perfect stroke is the product of almost automatic muscular action. In the
first round the swing of the driver or iron is not consciously governed, and
the muscular habit of the previous year controls. Later, as the player
concentrates on his task of correcting little faults or learning more effective

methods, his stroke loses its automatic quality, his game falls off, and it is
not until he masters his new form that he attains high efficiency.

The same cycle is repeated in office and factory operations, where
efficiency is possible only when the hands carry out automatically the
desired action. In typewriting and telegraphy, in the handling of adding
machines, in the feeding of drill presses, punch presses, and hundreds of
special machines, the learner passes through three distinct phases: first,
swift improvement in which prelearned move- <p 249> ments and skill are
brought to bear on the task under the stimulus of both novelty interest and
voluntary interest; second, arrested progress— the period of incubation or
habit formation; and the final stage of automatic skill and efficiency.

Since increase of efficiency is dependent upon continued efforts of will,
slumps are inevitable. Voluntary attention cannot be sustained for a long
period.

Work requiring effort is always subject to fluctuations. The man with a
strong will may make the lapses in attention relatively short. He may be on
his guard and ``try to try'' most faithfully, but no exertion of the will can
keep up a steady expenditure of effort in any single activity. All significant
*increases in efficiency, however, are dependent upon voluntary attention—
upon extreme exertions of the will.

No man can develop into an expert without great exertion of the will.
Such exertions of the will are recognized by authorities as being very
exhaustive and unstable. One of the greatest of the authorities and one who
in <p 250> particular has emphasized the necessity of a ``do-or-die'' attitude
of work concludes his discussion with the following significant admission:
``All this suggests that if one wants to improve at the most rapid rate, he
must work when he can feel good and succeed, then lounge and wait until it

is again profitable to work. It is when all the conditions are favorable that
the forward steps or new adaptations are made.''

Voluntary attention must be employed in making the advance step, in
improving our method of work, and in making any sort of helpful changes.
But voluntary attention must not be depended upon to secure steady and
continuous utilization of the improved method or rate of work. To secure
this end, an attempt should be made to reduce the work to habit so far as
possible and also to secure spontaneous interest either from interest and
pleasure in the work itself or because of the reward to be received.

The case of the young sales manager, described in the first part of this
article, suggests <p 251> some of the methods by which this interest can be
secured. The chief factor in his progress was the interest in the work itself
due to the novelty of his successive tasks—an element impossible to
introduce into the average man's job. Yet there were other and powerful
motives stimulating his interest: the responsibility of organizing a big
department and of directing the expenditure of large sums of money; the
prompt credit given him and the growing confidence extended to him; and
the expression of their appreciation in the concrete shape of salary
increases.

It is quite true that these various stimulating factors cannot be produced
indefinitely; tasks must ``stale,'' praise grow monotonous, salaries touch
their top level. But ``making good'' and finding interests in work crystallize
into habits which endure as long as conditions remain fair. The rise of the
efficiency curve thus depends upon recurrent periods of successful struggle
followed by periods of habit formation and by the development of powerful
spontaneous interests. <p 252>

Voluntary interest is a valuable thing to possess, but a difficult thing to
secure either within ourselves or in those under our charge.

In its psychological aspect, scientific management enters here. By
working out and establishing a standard method and standard time for
various ``repeat'' operations a workman is engaged in, it encourages—and
even enforces—the formation of new efficiency habits. The bonus paid for
the accomplishment of the task in the specified time supplies an immediate
and powerful motive to the effort necessary to master the ``right way'' of
doing things.

In the main, employees do their best to acquire efficiency; but their
humanness must not be forgotten, and the burden of increasing efficiency
must be carried largely by the executive. His part it is to supply interest, if
the nature of the work forbids the finding of it there, he must introduce it
from outside either by competition, by emphasizing the connection between
the task and the reward, as in piecework, or by provision of a bonus <p
253> for the achievement of a certain standard of efficiency.

He must eliminate the factors in environment or organization which
distract employees and make voluntary interest more difficult. He must
provide the means of training and must understand the possibilities and the
limitations of training. If a man ``slumps'' in efficiency, he must look for the
cause and make sure this is not beyond the man's control before he punishes
him. In a word, he must allow for periods of incubation or unconscious
organization before expecting maximum results from a new employee or an
old man assigned to a new job.

The man who by persistent effort has developed himself into an expert
has greatly enhanced his value to society. The boss who demands expert
service from untrained men is either a tyrant or a fool. But the executive
who develops novices into experts and the company which transforms mere
``handy men'' into mechanics are public benefactors because of the service
rendered to the country and their men.

CHAPTER XI
PRACTICE PLUS THEORY

THE demand for trained and experienced men is never supplied. Most
business and industrial organizations find their growth impeded by the
dearth of such men. To employ men trained by competitors or by inferior
organizations is expensive and unsatisfactory. A man trained till he has
become valuable to his ``parent'' organization is not likely to be equally
valuable to other organizations that might employ him at a later time. In
general, the most valuable men in any organization are the men who have
grown up in it.

The man who is ``a rolling stone'' secures, in a way, more experience than
the man who is developed within a single organization, but his wider
experience does not of necessity make him a more valuable man. It is not
mere <p 254> <p 255> experience that educates, develops, and equips men,
but experience of particular sorts, and acquired under very well defined
conditions.

``Scientific management'' has taken seriously the problem of providing
and utilizing the most valuable experiences. But the viewpoint of the
leaders in this modern movement is that of the employer seeking the most
valuable experiences for those employees whose work is mainly
mechanical, e.g. machine tenders, stenographers, etc. Scientific
management has conclusively demonstrated the fact that it is poor economy
to depend upon haphazard experiences for the development of those
employees whose excellence depends upon the speed and accuracy of their
occupation habits. It has thus done great service in demonstrating the kind
of experience most valuable in developing men for positions of routine
work. But it has done little for men whose welfare depends upon judgment
—in making new adjustments and in solving the new problems continually

arising in all positions of responsibility. It has left for others <p 256> to
consider the experiences most profitable for developing executives.

The most valuable experience in acquiring an act of skill is frequent
repetition in performing the act.

The value of the experience continues till by frequent repetition the act
has become so mechanical that it is performed without attention. Further
experience has little or no value.

On the other hand it is true that every worthy calling demands forms of
activity which could not and should not be mechanized. There are
emergencies in every form of occupation that call for new adjustments. The
ability to make such new adjustments depends upon richness of experience
and width of view as well as upon skill in performing the old processes.

The difference between a machine and a man is that the man is capable of
adjusting himself to the changed situation, while a machine cannot do so.
The machine may work more accurately and more rapidly than the man <p
257> in routine work, but it is capable of nothing but routine work. There is
a need for much experience to make the man approximate the skill and
accuracy obtained by a machine. But there is also need of experience to
develop the man in that particular in which he surpasses a machine, i.e. in a
broad experience that enables him to form judgments and hence to make a
multitude of different adjustments when a need for a change occurs.

A machine is constructed to perform a particular kind of routine work in
a stereotyped way, but so soon as there is discovered a better way of
performing this work the machine is thrown to the scrap heap because it
cannot be adjusted to new requirements.

Experience which renders human activity machine-like is a form of
experience that increases the probability that the possessor will be
discarded and his work accomplished by the introduction of some new tool
or some new method of work.

Experience therefore which merely increases the skill of action without
increasing the width <p 258> of horizon is necessary, but it is inadequate. In
addition to skill in routine work the man should secure the broader
experience that will enable him to adjust himself to changed conditions in
his occupation and that will develop the judgment necessary to enable him
to adjust his vocation to new demands. Every form of occupation has many
possibilities, a few of which are from time to time discovered to be
significant. Advance in any sphere of work depends upon the discovery of
these possibilities which the untrained eye of inexperience does not detect.
Although a broad experience may enable the man to grasp the possibilities
of his occupation, it fails to secure skill in the particulars that have already
been found to be important. While a broad experience leaves a man
incapable of present competition, the narrow experience jeopardizes his
future.

The most valuable experience is therefore one that equips the man to
compete with the skillful in the present and to comprehend his task so that
he may from time to time adjust <p 259> it to new relationships. It
emphasizes the formation of necessary habits, but does not neglect the
development of the judgment. Such an experience is both intensive and
extensive; informal and formal; mechanical and theoretical; practical and
scientific. Such experience alone meets the demands of the increasing
complexity of industrial and commercial life.

HOW MAY THE MOST VALUABLE EXPERIENCE BE SECURED
AND UTILIZED

I. Haphazard Experience

But little attention is given to providing those experiences that most
adequately prepare one for commercial and industrial life. The boy who is
to become a skilled workman is compelled to ``pick up'' his experience as
best he can. The same is true of the boy who aspires to a position as
salesman, banker, or manufacturer. Every employer seeks only experienced
men, and but few places are available where such experience can be
economically and honorably secured. <p 260>

The youth without experience, desiring to become a skilled machinist,
may secure some experience with machinery in a second-rate factory during
the rush season. Because of his incapacity, he is laid off as soon as the rush
is over. Thereupon he applies as an experienced machinist in a better shop.
If he is lucky, he may secure a position. If the supervision is inadequate, or
the demand for labor unusual, he may retain his position for several hours,
or days, or even weeks. After years of such distressing experiences, the
youth succeeds in ``stealing his trade.'' In the meantime he has been an
economic loss to his many employers, and his experience may have
depraved his character.

The condition found in the industrial world is no worse than that in the
commercial world. The selling force is recuperated by green hands. In most
selling organizations no instruction is given and no experience provided
except what is picked up haphazard behind the counter or on the road. Most
new men fail, are dismissed, employed by another firm and dis- <p 261>
missed again, etc. We have here nothing but a struggle for existence and the
survival of the fittest in a crude and destructive form.

The burnt child avoids the fire, and his experience is most effective.
However, the wise parent arranges conditions so that the burn shall not be
too serious. The machinist who ``steals'' his trade profits greatly by his

mistakes, and the new salesman never forgets some of his most flagrant
errors. Such experiences are practical, lasting, effective, but uneconomical.
But such experiences are of necessity unsystematic and inadequate to
modern industrial and commercial demands.

II. Apprenticeship Experience

The waste in the Haphazard method of securing experience in the
industrial world has long been apparent and has led to attempts to provide
systems of apprenticeships which would enable the youth to secure
educative experiences with a minimum of cost to himself and his employer.

In theory the youth who becomes an ap- <p 262> prentice is bound or
indentured to serve his master for a period of years. During that time the
master agrees to see to it that the apprentice practices and becomes
proficient in performing all the processes of the trade. The employer
(master) is rewarded in that he secures the continuous service of the boy for
the period of years upon the payment of little or no wages. Furthermore the
apprentice when developed into a journeyman is likely to become a
valuable employee. The apprentice is rewarded for his years of service by
the practical experience which he has been permitted to secure in actual
work with all the various processes involved in the trade.

Although the apprenticeship system has many excellent points, it has
been found inadequate to meet the needs of modern commercial and
industrial institutions. At least in its primitive form it is decadent in every
industry which has been modernized. All forms of commerce and industry
have become so complicated and each part demands such perfection of skill
that an apprentice can <p 263> scarcely secure sufficient experience in even
the essentials of the trade to render him expert in these various processes. In
short, the traditional apprenticeship system is unable to give either the

general comprehension of the industry or the skill in the specialized
processes.

III. Theoretical-practical Experience

In contrast with the two methods discussed above (Haphazard Experience
and Apprenticeship Experience) schools must be considered as a method of
providing experiences preparatory to industrial life. The first two methods
secure skill, but the schools secure learning. The first two might be said to
educate the hands and the latter the head. The comparative advantages of
these contrasted systems is the theme of unceasing debate. The man skilled
in one thing can at least do that one thing well. The man who is learned but
not skilled in any activity of his chosen occupation is unable to compete
with the boys who at the expense of schooling, ``went to work'' in that
particular occupation. <p 264>

An advanced general school education has very distinct advantages. But
skill in reading Latin does not greatly increase one's ability to read
instruments of precision. Skill in applying mathematical formul<ae> will
not greatly assist in estimating the value of merchandise. A knowledge of
general psychology will not insure ability in selecting employees. Even
great proficiency in discoursing upon ethical theories does not protect one
from the temptation to be dishonest in business.

Skill in one thing does not insure skill in other and even in similar things.
Learning in one field is not incompatible with gross ignorance in other and
related fields. We have discovered that skill and learning are largely
specialized, and accordingly we see the necessity of acquiring skill and
learning in the particular fields in which the skill and learning are desired.
To meet these demands various modifications in our schools have been
made. To meet the needs of training for the industries we have the manual

training schools, industrial schools, trade schools, continuation <p 265>
schools, correspondence schools, night schools, technological schools, etc.
To provide the appropriate experiences for commercial life we have
commercial schools, business colleges, store schools, schools of commerce,
etc.

These schools have rendered invaluable service and are rapidly
increasing in number, yet they do not provide either the skill or the learning
which should be possessed by the employee.

IV. Practical-theoretical Experience

The weakness of the Haphazard and Apprenticeship methods of securing
experience is twofold: (1) They cease too early. So soon as the man really
enters into his occupation his education ceases. (2) They are too narrow,
they fail to provide experiences that give proper perspective; they do not
give adequate theoretical comprehension of the work being accomplished
from day to day; they do not develop the judgment.

The weakness with the Theoretical-practical method of providing
experience resembles <p 266> the weakness of the Haphazard and the
Apprenticeship methods in that it ceases too early. It ceases *before the
individual begins his life work. It may have the special weakness of not
being closely organized with the vocation for which it is assumed to be a
preparation, hence of being impracticable.

The Practical-theoretical form of providing experience is based on two
assumptions: The first assumption is that the practical and the theoretical
should be equally emphasized; that they should be closely organized; and
that the theory should be deduced from the practice. The second assumption

is that the educative processes should continue so long as the man is
engaged in his occupation.

A concrete illustration will make clear the difference between the four
different methods of acquiring experience as given above.

During the present summer vacation I have been spending a few weeks in
a boarding house. Some previous boarder had bequeathed to the house an
intricate Chinese block puzzle. During this summer one lad in the house
spent <p 267> eight hours in solving the puzzle. He worked by the
Haphazard method, trying blindly, till he just happened to get it right. The
next attempt did not take so long, but it was many days before he could
solve the problem rapidly.

As soon as the lad had learned to solve the puzzle, my son watched him
solve it many times, and kept trying to do it as he saw it done. My son
learned to solve the puzzle in perhaps two hours by thus watching another
and then trying it himself. He was employing the Apprenticeship method,
and his education was accomplished in one fourth the time required by the
Haphazard method.

In the boarding house was an expert mechanical engineer. He took up the
task of solving the problem and was most scientific in his procedure. He
figured out the principles that he thought might be involved, tried them, and
immediately abandoned methods that proved unsuccessful. He was able to
solve the puzzle in a half hour. Later trials were all successful and rapid. He
knew just how he had solved the puzzle, and therefore <p 268> did not
have to experiment or take chances on later trials. This engineer employed
the Theoretical-practical method of learning.

The engineer volunteered to instruct me in the problem. I took up the
blocks and began trying to unite them. As one difficulty after another arose,

I was given instruction in the principle for overcoming it. No principle was
presented to me till I had faced a situation demanding that particular
principle. The practice and the theory went together, and so far as the
instruction was concerned the practice preceded the theory step by step. I
was therefore employing the Practical-theoretical method. As a result I was
enabled to solve the problem in fifteen minutes. Furthermore I knew just
how I had done it and could do it again and could apply the same principles
to other puzzles.

A comparison of these results is most instructive. The lad who went at it
blindly by the Haphazard method required eight hours and even then did
not analyze out the principles that would help him solve later prob- <p 269>
lems. My son, who employed the Apprenticeship method, accomplished his
task in two hours but discovered no principles. His work was blindly
mechanical. The engineer worked according to the Theoretical-practical
method, completed his task in thirty minutes, and understood perfectly what
he had done. By employing the Practical-theoretical method I was enabled
to accomplish the task in fifteen minutes and to understand also how it was
done.

Whether I have in mind my own development or that of my employees, if
I am seeking to utilize the Practical-theoretical method of capitalizing
experience, I am confronted with two problems: (1) How shall I secure or
provide the requisite practical experiences? (2) How shall I secure or
provide the appropriate theoretical interpretation of such experiences?

During recent years in the educational, industrial, and commercial world
serious attempts have been made to answer these two questions, and the
results are most significant. <p 270>

The College of Engineering of the University of Cincinnati believes that
it has solved the problem for certain fields of activity by ``co<o:>perative

courses.'' In these courses the students spend one week in some
manufacturing plant and the next week in the college. This weekly
alternation of practical and theoretical is kept up for six years. The number
of students in the college and the number of workers in the manufacturing
plant is kept constant by dividing each group of students into two sections
which alternate with each other, so that when one section is at the college
the other is at the shop. The college teaches the principles that are necessary
for understanding and solving the problems arising from week to week in
the shop. As the Dean of the college expresses it, ``It aims to teach the
theory underlying the work, to teach the intent of the work, to give such
cultural subjects as will tend to make him a more intelligent civic unit.'' It is
thought that such co<o:>perative courses could be arranged by schools of
different ranks of advancement and <p 271> that the students could spend
their alternate weeks in almost any class of industrial or commercial
institution of importance.

One of the most conspicuous attempts to provide Practical-theoretical
experiences of an educative sort is that of the General Electric Company of
West Lynn, Massachusetts. This institution has provided a corps of
instructors and rooms devoted exclusively to instruction within the plant
itself. The theoretical instruction is assumed to be perfectly co<o:>rdinated
with the practical. In fact the young apprentice spends much of his time
almost daily in constructing commercial articles and under the same
conditions that will confront him in later years. His theoretical instruction is
thus planned to help him to accomplish his practical task more quickly,
perfectly, and with more perfect understanding. The training is so broad that
the graduate is prepared to become an industrial foreman in any mechanical
establishment.

The John Wanamaker Commercial Institute of Philadelphia is a school
conducted <p 272> within the store and for the benefit of the employees of

the store. In this school theoretical instruction is given that is designed to
give the principles underlying commercial life. The results are said to be
most gratifying both to the employer and the employees.

The Practical-theoretical form of education is not limited to the
apprentice or to the new employee but is equally valuable to the expert, the
oldest employees, and the employer. This fact is taken advantage of most
wisely by the National Cash Register Company. This company provides
instruction suited to the needs of all its salesmen, whether they are new and
inexperienced or whether they are the oldest, most efficient salesmen. By
means of letters, books, demonstrations, and conventions the salesmen are
constantly provided with educative experiences and are kept from the
narrowness and lack of progress so characteristic of men in the commercial
life after they have become thoroughly established and relatively efficient in
their work.

In keeping with this modern tendency to <p 273> supplement practical
experience with theoretical interpretation, we find a very pronounced
increase in the utilization of all agencies that interpret and enrich the daily
toil. Men who are fully employed (e.g. journeymen and salesmen) have
realized the necessity of some form of theoretical instruction to enable them
to profit by their daily practical experience. This fact is almost pathetically
demonstrated by the multitudes who are seeking for such instruction
through correspondence and evening schools. Every progressive engineer,
teacher, physician, and lawyer keeps abreast of the best thought of the day
by means of frequent conventions, conferences, books, and periodicals. The
experience secured from such agencies is essential to progress; only by such
agencies can he learn the latest and most perfect interpretation of the
experience of his professional life. Likewise the non-professional man
engaged in commerce or industry finds the modern world to be so complex
that mere practical experience is no longer adequate to enable him to meet

the demands made <p 274> upon him. The theoretical training of his youth
(even though it include the college and the technical school) is totally
inadequate to interpret for him the new relationships which arise from day
to day. He needs a theory that grows out of his practical experience and that
enables him to understand and to improve upon his practical work. The
most common means for providing him with such experience he finds in his
conventions and informal conferences with his peers and in his trade
journals and technical books.

There is no warfare between theory and practice. The most valuable
experience demands both, and the methods of procuring the most valuable
experience in business and industry demand that the theory should
supplement the practice and not precede it. The environment most
conducive to securing and utilizing the most valuable experience is in the
work-a-day world. But this is the very environment in which men become
engulfed in the practical and neglect the theoretical. To the extent to which
men thus neglect the <p 275> theoretical do they lower themselves and
class themselves with mere machines, and so hasten the day when they shall
be discarded. Whether we be apprentices or experts, employees or
employers, we are all in a similar condition. In every case advance is
dependent upon the proper utilization of practical and theoretical
experiences—upon the practical experience which is adequately interpreted.

CHAPTER XII
MAKING EXPERIENCE AN ASSET: JUDGMENT FORMATION

WHY is it that of two men who are working at the same desk or bench
the one acquires valuable experience rapidly and the other slowly?

Why is it that of two houses each employing a thousand men the one sees
its employees securing experiences that enhance their earning capacity
rapidly, but the other house is compelled periodically to secure new blood
by importing men from rival firms?

Modern psychology teaches that experience is not merely the best teacher
but the only possible teacher. All that any instructor can do is to select and
to provide the conditions necessary for appropriate experiences and to
stimulate the learner to make the most of them. The ignorant is changed into
the learned <p 276> <p 277> by means of the utilization of profitable
experiences. By the same method the novice is changed into the expert; the
amateur into the professional; the inefficient into the efficient; and the
errand boy into the manager.

One of the most important questions any man can ask is this: What
experience am I actually getting from day to day and what experience might
my situation offer?

One of the most important questions the employer of men can ask is this:
How much more efficient will my men be to-morrow because of the
experience of to-day? How might their experience be changed or utilized so
that their efficiency might be increased more rapidly?

In planning to secure permanent increase in efficiency, whether for one's
self or for one's employees, we simplify our problem by considering it
under the two following subdivisions:—

What Experiences are Most Valuable?

How may these Most Valuable Experiences be Secured and Utilized? <p
278>

Preparatory to the answering of these two questions it will simplify
matters to consider the general conditions which affect the value of
experience.

GENERAL CONDITIONS GIVING VALUE TO EXPERIENCE

1. Health and Vigor.

The mind and body are so intimately connected that the value of an
experience is seriously affected by depletion or exhaustion of the body. The
experiences acquired when one is fresh and vigorous are remembered; those
acquired when one is tired are forgotten. Most college students find that
lessons gotten in the morning are better remembered and are more readily
applied than those learned after a day of exhaustive work. We get most out
of those experiences secured when we are feeling the most vigorous,
whether the vigor be dependent upon age, rest, or general health.

2. Experience is valuable proportionately as we apply ourselves to the
task on hand. By intensity of application we not only accomplish <p 279>
more, but each unit of work contributes more to our development. Under
the stress of voluntary and spontaneous attention, under the stimulus of
personal efficiency-ideals, and under such social demands as competition
and imitation we develop new methods of thought and action which are
thereupon adopted as the methods for future action.

3. The value of an experience depends upon what has been called the
``personal attitude'' sustained during the experience. Three forms of
``personal attitudes'' have been distinguished and are designated as follows:
—

(a) The submissive or suggestible attitude.

(b) The self-attentive attitude.

(c) The objective or the problem attitude.

(a) One is likely to be thrown into the submissive attitude when a new
situation arises (a business problem), if one knows that he is in the presence
of others who could solve the problem with relative ease or accuracy. In
such a situation the individual is hampered in his thinking by the presence
of those who are more expert than he. His thinking is <p 280> therefore
futile for the present difficulty and is devoid of educative value.

(b) The self-attentive attitude is similar to the submissive attitude, but is
not to be confused with it. If when confronted with a difficult problem my
attack upon it is weakened by the expectation of assistance from others, I
am in a submissive attitude. If, however, my attack is weakened by my
realization that I am on trial,—that what I do with the problem will be
observed by others,—then I become self-conscious and am thrown into the
self- attentive attitude. If I am conscious that I am being watched, it is quite
difficult for me to hit a golf ball, to add a column of figures, or to deliver a
lecture on psychology. So long as I am self-attentive my efficiency is
reduced; I hit on no improved methods of thought or action, and my
experience therefore has no permanent value.

(c) So soon as I can forget others and myself and can take the objective,
or the problem attitude, the chances of efficient action are greatly increased.
I find it relatively easy <p 281> to assume this attitude when I feel that I
stand on my own responsibility; that the problem cannot possibly be
referred to any higher authority, but that the solution depends upon me
alone. My chances of solving the problem would be much reduced, if it
were proposed to me at a time when I felt domineered by a superior, or
when I felt that he knew much more about it and could settle it much more
easily and surely than I. If the problem demanded previous experience and

the possession of knowledge which I did not possess, it would be likely to
make me self-conscious and hence incapable of utilizing even the
experience and the knowledge that I do possess. Past success, the
possession of wide experience, and technical instruction keep me from
assuming the self-attentive attitude and enable me to take the problem or
objective attitude. This is the only attitude consistent with improved form of
thought or action, and hence is the attitude essential for valuable
experience.

4. That experience is the most valuable that is acquired in dealing with
conditions similar <p 282> to those in connection with which improvement
is sought. Experience in wood-chopping makes one a better chopper but
does not necessarily increase his skill in sawing wood. Experience in
bookkeeping increases one's ability in that particular, but does not
appreciably increase his ability to handle men. Speed and accuracy of
judgment secured in inspecting one sort of goods cannot be depended upon,
if a different sort of goods is to be inspected.

The experience secured in responding to one situation will be valuable in
responding to a similar situation because of the three following facts:—

(a) Two similar conditions may secure identical factors in our activity.
Thus school life and the executive's work secure such identical activities as
are involved in reading, in writing, or in arithmetic, and so forth, whether
accomplished in the schoolroom or the office.

(b) The method developed in one experience may be applied equally well
to another activity. In connection with a course in college, a student may
acquire a scientific method of <p 283> procedure. At a later time he may (or
he may not) apply this same method to the problems arising in his business
or industrial life.

(c) Ideals developed in one experience may be projected into other
experiences. If the ideals of promptness, neatness, accuracy, and honesty are
developed in one relationship of life, the probabilities are somewhat
increased that the same ideals will be applied to all experiences.

Provided that the four general conditions discussed are secured, we then
have the more specific and important question to ask:—

WHAT EXPERIENCES ARE THE MOST VALUABLE?

Only those experiences are valuable that in an appreciable degree modify
future action. One way in which an experience or a series of experiences
modifies future action is in the formation of habits.

Habit Formation

Habit has a beneficial influence on future action in five particulars:— <p
284>

(a) Habit reduces the necessary time of action. Repeating the twenty-six
letters of the alphabet has become so habitual that I can repeat them forward
in two seconds. To repeat them in any other than an habitual order, e.g.
backwards, requires sixty seconds.

(b) Habit increases accuracy. I can repeat the alphabet forward without
danger of error, but when I try to repeat it backward I am extremely likely
to go astray.

(c) Habit reduces the attendant exhaustion. Reading English is for me
more habitual than reading French. Hence the latter is the more exhausting
process.

(d) Habit relieves the mind from the necessity of paying attention to the
details of the successive steps of the act. When piano playing has been
completely reduced to habit, the finger movement, the reading of the notes,
etc., are all carried on successively with the minimum of thought.

(e) Habit gives a permanency to experience. For many years in playing
tennis I served the ball in a way that had become for me perfectly <p 283>
habitual. For an interval of three years I played no tennis, but when I began
again I found that I could serve as well as ever. If the manner of service had
not been so perfectly reduced to habit, I would have found after an interval
of three years that I was completely out of practice, i.e. that my previous
experience did not have a permanent value.

(The subject of habit formation will be more completely presented in
Chapter XIII.)

A second form of experience that is capitalized and so predetermines a
man's capacity to act and to think is the formation of what is known as
practical judgments.

Practical judgments

By a practical judgment is meant the conscious recall of a concrete past
experience and the determination of some action by means of this
consciously recalled event. I find that it will be necessary for me to secure a
new stenographer. I solve the problem by consciously recalling how I got
one before. Upon the basis of that consciously recalled previous <p 286>
experience I decide how to act now. This is a practical judgment.

In strictness what is capitalized is not the practical judgment itself but the
original concrete experience that is recalled at a later time, and upon the

basis of which a practical judgment is formed.

Practical judgments cannot be more comprehensive than one's previous
experience. The necessary condition for fertility in the formations of
practical judgments is therefore richness of previous experience. Indeed
one's practical judgments are much more restricted than one's actual
experiences. A practical judgment is dependent not merely upon having had
the necessary experience, but upon the recall of it at the appropriate
occasion. The key to a side door of my house was temporarily lost. After
trying scores of keys, I found that a key to a room in the attic would also
open the side door. This side-door key was again carried off last week. After
much vexation and after trying numerous keys, I again discovered that the
key to the room in the attic would open the <p 287> side door. I failed to
make the necessary practical judgment. If when the key was lost the second
time I had recalled my former experience and had taken advantage of it, I
would have formed a practical judgment and would have saved myself
much inconvenience.

The formation of practical judgments is not a high form of thought.
Indeed it is held by many that the animals are capable of some form of
practical judgment. A much more effective form of thought is the formation
of reflective judgments.

Reflective judgments

A practical judgment is based on a single concrete case. A reflective
judgment is based on a generalization, an abstraction, or a principle derived
from many previous experiences.

Last night a salesman tried to induce me to purchase an interest in an
Idaho apple orchard. Thereupon I recalled an instance of a friend who a

year ago had made such a purchase and had found it a profitable
investment. If on the basis of this or some other concrete case I <p 288>
had accepted or rejected his offer, I would have made a practical judgment.
As a matter of fact I caused several concrete instances to pass through my
mind, made the generalization that most professional men lose when they
invest in distant properties, and upon the basis of this generalization made
my reflective judgment and rejected his proposition.

Last week on the golf links I saw a Bohemian peasant woman wearing
clothes full of small holes. I tried to figure out how the clothing had become
so injured. I recalled seeing a coat that had been left all summer in an attic
till it had been eaten to pieces by the moths. On the basis of that recalled
incident I satisfied myself by means of the practical judgment that she was
wearing moth-eaten clothing. A few days later I saw three of these women
working on one of the greens, and each of them had on clothing full of
small holes. I began to reflect as to the cause of the holes. I observed that
each woman held a bottle in her hand and was apparently applying the
contents of the bottle to the roots of the dandelion <p 289> plants. I inferred
that the liquid must be an acid. Then of all the qualities of an acid I
considered merely its corrosiveness. With that abstraction in mind I made
the reflective judgment that the women were working with an acid and that
from time to time particles of the acid got on their clothes and corroded
them.

A manager of a large manufacturing and selling organization made a
study of the conditions affecting the prosperity of his organization. From his
observations he deduced the principle that for him it is more important to
increase the loyalty of the men to the organization than to reduce the
apparent labor cost. With this principle in mind he made various reflective
judgments in upbuilding his organization.

In these illustrations of theoretical or reflective judgments it will be
observed that no previous single experience was in the mind of the one
forming the judgment but merely a generalization, an abstraction, or
principle.

The experience that is really capitalized is <p 290> the formation of the
generalizations, abstractions, and principles which are thereafter available
for reflective judgments and can be applied to a multitude of novel
situations but situations in which the generalization, abstraction, or
principle is a factor.

The significance of reflective judgments in increasing human efficiency
was manifested in a striking manner by the following experiment. A group
of individuals were tested as to their ability to solve a number of
mechanical puzzles. The time required for each individual was recorded.
The subjects then described as completely as possible how they had solved
the problem (worked the puzzle). In some instances the subjects kept trying
blindly, till by accident they hit upon the right method. In such cases the
second and third trials might take as long or even longer than the first trial.
If, however, the subject had in mind the right principle or principles for
solving the problems, the time required for succeeding attempts fell
abruptly. Curve A of Figure 6 is a graphic representation of the results of A
with one of <p 291> the puzzles. To solve the problem the first time
required 1476 seconds. While solving it this first time A discovered a
principle upon which success depended. The second attempt consumed 241
seconds. While solving the problem this second time he discovered a
second principle. With these two principles in mind succeeding attempts
were rendered rapid and certain.

Another young man, B, in solving his problem. (Chinese Rings Puzzle)
succeeded after working 1678 seconds. At the completion of this successful

attempt he had in mind no principle for working it. The second trial was not
so successful as the first and lasted 2670 seconds. With succeeding trials he
reduced his time but not regularly and was still working ``in the dark.'' His
method was one of extreme simplicity and probably not different from the
``try, try again'' method employed by animals in learning. The results of his
first ten trials are graphically shown in Curve B of Figure 6.

A comparison of Figure 6 with the five

<p 292> {illust. caption = FIG. 6.}

<p 293> figures of Chapter X will show how rapidly increase of
efficiency is when dependent upon judgments as contrasted with
improvement dependent upon habit.

A judgment once having been made may be utilized again and again. The
process of applying these preformed judgments is known as an intuitive or
perhaps better called an expert judgment.

Expert judgments

Just as appropriate concrete experiences determine the nature and the
range of practical judgments, and as the formation of generalizations,
abstractions, and principles determine the possibilities of reflective
judgments, so the actual formation of the practical and reflective judgments
determine the nature and the range of the intuitive or expert judgments.

Some years ago I had a need for an attorney to perform for me a petty
service. Just at that critical moment I met a friend who was a lawyer. I
employed him forthwith. At a later time I needed a lawyer again, recalled

my <p 294> former experience, and called up the same attorney. This
employing him the second time was clearly a practical judgment. If I have
frequent need for an attorney, I shall probably make use of my preformed
practical judgment and employ this same attorney. This act will never
become a habit, but it will approximate more and more a habitual action,
and will seem to be performed intuitively, and will be an illustration of an
expert judgment.

This morning I was asked to find a cook and man of general utility for an
outing camp. I had no preformed practical judgment which I could apply to
the case and did not even possess a remembrance of any experience upon
which I might base a practical experience. In such a case therefore I am not
only not an expert but I do not possess the necessary preliminary
experiences for developing such ability.

During the last decade I have given much thought to this question: Does
the efficiency of one's thinking depend at all upon the clearness and
distinctness of the mental image used <p 295> in the thinking? I settled the
question in the negative. The formation of this principle (clear thinking does
not depend upon clear visual image) was an act of reflective judgment. But
now the application of this preformed judgment has developed into an
expert judgment. Recently I was given the manuscript of a course in
psychology and asked to appraise it. One of the chief points of the author
was to advise all business men to develop clear visual images. In fact he
asserted that clearness of thinking was in proportion to clearness of the
visual image with which the thinking is carried on. Without again weighing
the evidence for my principle, I applied my preformed judgment and by
means of this expert judgment condemned the course.

A man is expert only in those fields in which he has developed the
appropriate habits, the necessary, practical, and reflective judgments, and

has had some practice in applying these judgments.

We find that four classes of experiences are valuable, i.e. such
experiences as result in the <p 296> formation of habits; such as result in
practical judgments, in reflective judgments, and in expert judgments. Our
final task is to consider methods for increasing the probabilities that such
experiences may be secured and utilized.

SECURING AND UTILIZING THESE MOST VALUABLE
EXPERIENCES

The conditions best adapted for procuring and utilizing one class of these
most valuable experiences may not be the best for the other three classes.
Our final problem must therefore be subdivided into four parts
corresponding to the four classes of valuable experience.

Special Conditions Favorable to Habit Formation

The essential condition for habit formation is repetition with intensity of
application. The modern movement in the industrial world known as
scientific management supplies this need for repetition by standardizing all
activities so that they will be repeated over and <p 297> over in identical
form; and it secures the intensity of application by means of the task and
bonus system. By these means the most valuable experiences for habit
formation are secured and utilized.

The working out of this fact is so admirably described in recent reports
upon scientific management that further description here would be
superfluous.

Special Conditions Favorable to the Formation of Practical judgments

In addition to the four general conditions discussed on pages 278 to
283@@@ the special conditions most favorable to the formation of
practical judgments are the three following:—

1. The experiences most effective in arousing practical judgments are
those that are most recent. A few days ago I purchased a piece of real estate
and was asked how I wanted the property transferred. I replied immediately
that I wanted a warranty deed and a guarantee policy. This was a practical
judgment made upon the basis of a recent previous experience. <p 298> As
a matter of fact there are three distinct methods of transferring real estate,
but until after my judgment had been made I was perfectly oblivious of the
other methods, although I had had experience with them some years before.
Thus I utilized only my recent experience in making my practical judgment.

2. Other things being equal, those experiences are most valuable in
arousing practical judgments that have been the most frequent. I have seen
burns dressed many times and in many ways, but most often they have been
dressed with soda and water. When I was called upon recently to dress a
burn I recalled the method which I had seen most often and formed a
practical judgment based thereupon and was helped out of my difficulty.

3. Our most vivid and intense experiences are the ones most likely to be
recalled and to be utilized in the formation of practical judgments. The
mistakes that I have to pay for and the deed that secured my promotion are
the experiences most fertile in the formation of practical judgments.

<p 299> Special Conditions Favorable to the Formation of Reflective
judgments

In addition to the general conditions mentioned on page 278@@@ the
special conditions favorable for the formation of reflective judgments are as
follows:—

1. A theoretical education. Proverbially schools teach generalizations,
abstractions, and principles. The scholar and the student are compelled to
practice in this most effective form of thinking. A justifiable criticism of the
schools is that they are inclined to neglect the lower forms of thinking—the
dealing with the concrete—in their zeal for the highest forms of thinking.
However, a school education not only gives practice in handling
generalizations, abstractions, and principles, but it provides the conditions
necessary to stimulate the learners to amass a useful stock of concepts that
at a later time will be used in reflective judgments.

2. Suggestions from others. Reflective judgments depend upon
condensed experience. The condensation is not produced by compres- <p
300> sion but by selecting the common though essential element from
various former experiences and by uniting these elements into a new unity.
This breaking up of former experiences by analyzing out the essential factor
is a difficult task and one in which no man can proceed far without
assistance from others.

At a recent meeting of psychologists a speaker presented a paper on the
most helpful order of presentation of topics for a course in psychology. He
simply called our attention to certain facts which we had all experienced as
teachers of psychology. He then combined these abstracted elements in a
new unity in such a way that I was enabled to form a reflective judgment as
to the order of presenting topics in psychology. Without his suggestion I
probably never would have been able to make the analysis necessary for the
reflective judgment.

We need all the help we can get to assist us to analyze our own
experiences. To this end we employ with great profit such agencies as
conferences with fellow-workmen, conventions, <p 301> visitations, trade
journals, and technical discussions upon our own problem (cf. Chapter XI).

3. Verbal expression. We cannot well unite factors of previous experience
into a new whole unless we have some symbol to stand for the new unity.
As such a symbol, a word is the most effective. Animals never carry on
reflective judgments and never can, since they do not possess a language
adequate to such demands. The attempt to express one's thought in words is
in reality often a means for creating the thought as well as a means for its
expression. A few years ago I prepared a paper on the subject, ``Making
Psychology Practical.'' In my attempt to express myself I clarified my
thinking, formed new generalizations, and therefore was enabled to do with
full consciousness (with reflective judgments) what previously I had done
but blindly.

It is a most helpful practice to attempt to express in words just what one
is trying to accomplish; what are the conditions necessary for success; what
the conditions that are lower- <p 302> ing efficiency; and what are the
possibilities of the work, etc. The method of analysis and expression assists
wonderfully in abstracting the aspects of one's experience necessary for the
generalization, abstraction, and principle used in reflective judgments.

Special Conditions Favorable to the Formation of Expert judgments

There are no clearly defined special conditions for increasing one's
capacity to apply expert judgments. The general conditions discussed on
page 278@@@ seem to cover the case. If I have provided, as an executive,
for all these conditions for developing expert judgments:—

(1) if I have good vigorous health,

(2) if I am working with enthusiastic application,

(3) if I have the right attitude towards my work,

(4) and finally, if I am having frequent experience in making practical
and theoretical judgments,—I am then fulfilling the conditions most
favorable for the development of expert judgments.

CHAPTER XIII
CAPITALIZING EXPERIENCE—HABIT FORMATION

AFTER spending four years in an Eastern college, a young graduate was
put in charge of a group of day laborers. He assumed toward them the
attitude of the athletic director and the coach combined. He set out to
develop a winning team, one that could handle more cubic yards of dirt in a
day than any other group on the job.

He had no guidebook and no official records to direct him. He did not
know what the best ``form'' was for shoveling dirt, and he did not know
how much a good man could accomplish in an hour. With stop watch and
notebook in hand, he began to observe the movements of the man who
seemed the best worker in the group. He counted the different movements
made in handling a <p 303> <p 304> shovelful of dirt, and the exact time
required for each of the movements. He then made similar observations
upon other men. He found that the best man was making fewer movements
and faster movements than his companions. But he also discovered that
even this best workman was making movements which were not necessary,
and that he was making some movements too slowly and thus losing the

advantage of the momentum which a higher speed would have produced,
and which would have enabled him to accomplish the task with less effort.

The young collegian then set about to standardize the necessary
movements and the most economical speed for each movement required in
the work of his group. He instructed his best man in the improved method
of working, and offered him a handsome bonus if he would follow the
specifications and accomplish the task in the estimated time. The man,
eager to earn the increase, followed the directions closely, and in a few
weeks was enabled to accomplish more than twice the work of the <p 303>
average workman. The improved habit of working was then taught the other
workmen, and the result was a winning team.

The success of the young collegian did not get into the colored
supplements of the daily press, but it was heralded by mechanical engineers
as marking an epoch in the industrial advance of humanity. It made
manifest the necessity of a study of habits, the elimination of the useless
ones, and the acquisition of those most beneficial.

The study of habit has not received from the practical business man the
attention which it deserves because he has too often looked upon habit as
something detrimental to efficiency. The possession of any and of all habits
has at times been regarded as a misfortune.

An employer of men for responsible positions recently made this inquiry
concerning each applicant for a position, ``Does he have any habits? If so,
what are they?'' This employer confused all habits with such things as habits
of intemperance, habits of slovenliness, habits of dishonesty, and habits of
loafing. <p 306> Little did he suspect that the habits of the men were in
reality their strongest recommendation. He did not realize that the
capitalized experience of these men was funded in the masses of useful
habits which they had acquired.

Habits are but ways of thinking and of acting which by reason of frequent
repetition have become more or less automatic. We are all creatures of
habit; we all possess both good and bad habits.

In performing an habitual act we do not pay attention to the individual
separate steps included in the act. So we are liable to think of our habitual
acts as those done *carelessly, and of other acts as those performed with
caution and consideration. The folly of such a criticism of habit is made
apparent by the study of any act which may be performed by one person as
a habit and by another person as an act every step of which demands
attention. A barber stropping his razor is a familiar illustration of the
working of habit. An adult attempting to strop a razor for the first time and
compelled to give attention to each step <p 307> in the process is a typical
illustration of an act demanding attention in contrast with an habitual act
which needs no such attention.

We are also inclined to deprecate habits on the ground that the man in the
grip of habit is hopelessly in the *rut, that the man who has reduced his
work to habit ceases to be original and is incapable of further improvement.
On the contrary, the grip of habit is but a support. The editor could not write
his trenchant editorials, and the advertiser could not write his compelling
copy, unless in the act of writing each could turn over to habit the
manipulation of the pen, the formation of the letters, and the spelling of the
words. The attorney cannot make his most logical arguments and the
salesman cannot make the best presentation of his goods, unless they can
depend upon habit for correct verbal expressions, unless their thoughts
clothe themselves automatically in appropriate verbal forms. When we are
in the grip of habit, if it be a good habit, we are not so much in a rut as on
the steel rails where alone the greatest progress is <p 308> made possible.
We are not enslaved by good habits, but rather might it be said that no man

is truly free to advance and to make rapid progress till he has succeeded in
establishing a mass of useful habits.

HOW HABITS ARE FORMED

Modern physiological psychology has dealt with the problem of explaining
the possibility of the formation and maintenance of habits. The explanation
is found in the mutual development of the mind and the nervous system and
in the dependence of thought and action upon the nervous system, and
particularly upon the brain. To understand habit we must look beyond
thought and action and consider some of the fundamental characteristic
features of the nervous system. One such characteristic is the plasticity of
the nervous substance. If I bend a piece of paper and crease it, the crease
will remain even after the paper is straightened out again. The paper is
plastic, and plasticity means simply that the substance offers some
resistance to adopting a <p 309> new form, but that when the new form is
once impressed upon the substance it is retained. Some effort is required to
overcome the plasticity of the paper and to form the crease, but when it is
once formed the plasticity of the paper preserves the crease.

Modern conceptions of psychology have emphasized the intimate
relationship existing between our thoughts and our brains. Every time we
think, a slight change takes place in the delicate nerve-cells in some part of
the brain. Every action among these cells leaves its indelible mark, or
crease. Just as it is easy for the paper to bend where it has been creased
before, it is likewise easy for action to take place in the brain where it has
taken place before.

The brain may also be likened to the cylinder or disk used in a dictating
machine and in phonographs, and a thought likened to the needle making
the original record. It takes some energy to force the needle through the

substance of the cylinder, but thereafter it moves along the opened groove
with a mini- <p 310> mum of resistance. In a similar way it is easy to think
the old thought or to perform the old act, but it is most difficult to be
original in thinking and in acting. When an idea has been thought or an act
performed many times, the crease or groove becomes so well established
that thinking or acting along that crease or groove is easier than other
thoughts or actions, and so this easier one may be said to have become
habitual. In a very real sense the thoughts and actions form the brain by
means of the delicate physical changes which they produce; and then, when
the brain is formed, its plasticity is so great that it determines our future
thinking and acting.

HABIT SHORTENS THE TIME NECESSARY FOR A THOUGHT
OR AN ACT

Human efficiency depends in part upon the rapidity with which we are able
to accomplish our tasks. It is surprising to us all when we find how rapidly
we can accomplish our habitual acts and how slowly we perform the tasks
to which we are compelled to give specific atten- <p 311> tion. I find that I
can repeat the twenty-six letters of the alphabet in two seconds. I do not
give attention to the order of the letters) but all I seem to do is to start the
process, and then it says itself. If, however, I attempt to pronounce the
alphabet backward, my first attempt takes a full minute. If I attempt to say
the alphabet forward but to insert after each letter a single syllable, such as
``two,'' it takes sixteen seconds. Thus, a 2, b 2, C 2, d 2, etc., requires eight
times as many seconds as the simple alphabet, a, b, c, d, e, etc. The
sequence which has become most perfectly habitual requires but two
seconds; the process which employs the old habit in part requires sixteen
seconds; but the act which has never been reduced to a habit at all
(repeating the alphabet backward) requires at least sixty seconds.

Some time ago I could pick out the letters on a typewriter at the rate of
about one per second. Writing is now becoming reduced to a habit, and I
can write perhaps three letters a second. When the act has been <p 312>
reduced to the pure habit form, I shall be writing at the rate of not less than
five letters per second.

I can send a telegraph message at a rate but little faster than one contact
per second. Those who have reduced the transmission of messages to a
habit are capable of making twelve contacts per second.

In multiplying one three-place number by another I have the fixed habit
of writing the multiplier under the multiplicand, the partial products under
these, and the final product beneath all. If I reverse all these positions, the
multiplying should be no more difficult, but as a matter of fact this simple
reversal increases the time of operation about eighty-five per cent. All
mathematical operations are rapid in proportion to the degree to which they
are habitual.

The speed of thought is slow unless it follows the old creases and the old
grooves. No adequate speed is possible so long as attention must be given
to the succeeding stages of the thought or act. This is true of all acts and <p
313> of all thoughts, whether in the home or upon the street, in the shop or
in the office.

Great speed of thought and action must not be confused with hurried
thought and action. Speed which is habitual is never hurried. There are
many acts of skill which can be done much more easily if performed rapidly
than if performed slowly. When working hurriedly, there is a speeding up of
all movements whether necessary or unnecessary; but the speed secured
from correct habits is primarily dependent upon the elimination of useless
movements and the concentration of energy at the essential point.

HABIT INCREASES ACCURACY OF ACTING AND THINKING

Where machinery can be employed we find greatly increased accuracy of
work. The product of the loom and the lathe are more perfect, more
uniform, and more accurate in all details than similar work produced by
hand. The product of the printing press thus attains a greater degree of
accuracy in details than <p 314> was ever attained by the ancient monk in
the printing of his scrolls.

In general, our work becomes accurate, as well as swift, in the degree to
which we are able to mechanize it into habits. The beginner in piano
playing or typewriting pays attention to the striking of each key. When he is
in this stage of development he is liable at any time to strike the wrong key
and certainly cannot be depended upon for regularity of touch. As soon as
he has reduced the striking of the keys to a habit, he ceases to strike the
wrong keys and secures uniformity of touch.

The expert marksman has reduced to a habit the necessary steps of
shooting and gives no special attention to the position of the fingers, the
tension of the hands, the angle of the head, the closing of the eye, and the
pulling of the trigger. He has reduced all these to habit before he is able to
secure his expert skill.

The reliable bookkeeper has reduced to habit the combining of all the
ordinary sums of the ledger. The man of accuracy of speech <p 315> is the
one whose thoughts clothe themselves in the verbal expressions by habit but
with no conscious selection of words. The man of the most accurate
judgment in any field is the one who has succeeded in reducing to habit
most of the steps of the judgments in that field, the one who has the largest
stock of intuitive judgment.

HABIT RELIEVES THE ATTENTION FROM DETAILS

Attention cannot be directed to more than one thing at a time. It is doubtless
true that the ``one thing'' may be very complex, e.g. four letters or even four
words. So long as the performance of an act demands attention, this one act
is practically all that can be done at that time. As soon as this thing is
reduced to habit, it may go on automatically, and the attention may be
turned to other things.

When I begin to learn to play the piano, the finger movements require all
my attention so that I cannot read the notes on the scale and make the
proper execution at the <p 316> same time. Gradually, the reading of notes
and the execution are reduced to habit, and I can then turn my attention to
the reading of the words of the air. As each essential detail is reduced to
habit, I acquire the ability to read the score, to make the correct finger and
foot movements, to read the words of the song, to sing it correctly, and at
the same time to be thinking more or less of other things.

My use of the pen has become so reduced to habit that I need pay no
attention to the writing, but am enabled to give my entire attention to the
thought which I am attempting to formulate. So every useful habit becomes
a power or a tool which may be used for multiplying the efficiency of the
individual. Habit formation is the greatest labor saving device in the human
economy. No one has expressed this truth so forcefully as the late Professor
William James.

``The great thing, then, in all education, is to make our nervous system
our ally instead of our enemy. It is to fund and capitalize <p 317> our
acquisitions, and live at ease upon the interest of the fund. For this we must
make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, as many useful actions as
we can, and guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be

disadvantageous to us as we should guard against the plague. The more of
the details of our daily life we can hand over to the effortless custody of
automatism, the more our higher powers of mind will be set free for their
own proper work. There is no more miserable human being than one in
whom nothing is habitual but indecision, and for whom the lighting of
every cigar, the drinking of every cup, the time of rising and going to bed
every day, and the beginning of every bit of work, are subjects of express
volitional deliberation. Full half the time of such a man goes to the deciding
or regretting of matters which ought to be so ingrained in him as practically
not to exist for his consciousness at all. If there be such daily duties not yet
ingrained in any one of my readers, let him begin this very hour to set the
matter right.''

<p 318> HABIT REDUCES EXHAUSTION

The various acts connected with my morning toilet have been reduced to
sheerest habit. I do not think of the different acts as I perform them—they
seem to perform themselves. The sequence of the various acts and the
manner of performing them are not particularly good, but I do not seem
inclined to change them. I put on my left shoe before my right, my right
sleeve before my left. I have the absurd habit of washing my teeth after I
have washed my face. That my habits may execute themselves
automatically, all the articles of my toilet must be in their proper places. I
am thwarted in carrying out my habits unless my laundry has been properly
placed, unless towels, brushes, etc., are all where they should be. If
everything is in its place, I get down to breakfast refreshed and recuperated.
If the toilet articles are so located that I am compelled to do consciously
what I might have done subconsciously, I get down to breakfast irritated
and nervously <p 319> depleted. The peace and restfulness of an orderly
and systematic household are in part dependent upon the fact that it is only

in such a household that we are enabled to turn over to habit the
accomplishment of untold recurrent acts.

The experienced accountant can add figures continuously for eight hours
a day, and at the end of the day may feel no great exhaustion. The man who
has not reduced to habit the necessary steps in addition cannot add
continuously for two hours without a degree of exhaustion so great that it
paralyzes effort. The same is true with typewriting, telegraphing, and with
all forms of manipulations which may be reduced to habit.

The habit of reading in a foreign language is rarely so well established as
the habit of interpreting the printed symbols of the mother tongue. Even
when I seem to be reading German as easily as English, a few hours spent
in reading German is to me much more exhausting than the same amount of
time spent <p 320> with an English book. Attending lectures delivered in
German is to me more exhausting than the same lectures would be if
delivered in English.

Work that requires much constructive thinking cannot be continued for
many hours a day. This is due to the fact that such thinking does not admit
of complete reduction to specific habits. The executive who accomplishes
much is the man who has formed many useful habits and who is able to fall
back on them for a large part of his work. His decisions are reached in a
habitual manner. Investigations take a regular, automatic course. All the
details of the office are reduced to mechanical system. No useless energy is
spent in giving attention to details that can be better done by habit, and the
mind is thus freed from exhaustion and left fresh for attacking the problems
arising for solution.

The performance of every new act and the thinking of every new idea is
of necessity exhausting, and they become easy to the extent to which they
utilize old habits. Although <p 321> constructive thinking is most

stimulating and exciting, no man can continue it for more than a few hours
or a few minutes unless it depends mainly upon old habits.

Some of the most constructive thinkers of the world have been men who
could work at their original work for but a few minutes at a time. One
brilliant contemporary writer accomplishes most when he works not more
than fifteen minutes at a time. Charles Darwin is famous for the originality
of his thinking, and hence we are not surprised when we find that he was
able to work but three hours out of the twenty-four.

PERSONAL HABITS

Personal habits are the most apparent and those by which we most often
judge an individual. Manner of dress becomes so much a matter of habit
that the wearing apparel is sometimes spoken of as the habit, and, as
Shakespeare says, it oft betrays the man. Cleanliness and neatness of
appearance, the tone and accent of voice, the manner of walk- <p 322> ing
and of carrying the head, and the use of language are personal habits which
are acquired early in life, but which mean much in the chances of success.
The manner of eating, of sleeping, and of caring for all the needs of body
and mind are for most persons mainly a matter of habit, yet they, to a large
extent, determine the condition of health and the length of days.

We become fond of doing things in the manner to which we have become
habituated. This tendency manifests itself to an abnormal degree in the
drinking and the smoking habit. In a lesser degree we see the same thing in
the attachment of the babe for his pacifier and the child for his chewing
gum. Habit creates a craving for the good as well as for the bad. The ways
to which we have become habituated seem pleasing to us whether they be
good or bad. There is truth in the proverb, ``Train up a child in the way he
should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.'' It might be added

that the child will not want to depart from the way to which he has been
trained, for <p 323> the habits thus acquired beget a fondness for the acts
themselves.

It is very unusual for any one to acquire a language after the age of
twenty so as to speak it without a foreign accent. All other personal habits
are like the use of language in that they are acquired during the early years
and are not easily changed. So far as personal habits are concerned, but
little change need be anticipated after the twentieth year.

SOCIAL HABITS

Our treatment of others is largely a matter of habit. We are affable or gruff
according to habit. Honesty and dishonesty in dealing with others is, in the
main, a matter of habit. The honest man is the one who takes honesty for
granted and acts honestly from habit. So soon as he begins to observe that
he is an honest man, to call attention to the fact, and to be much impressed
by the honor of his choices—at that moment suspicion of him should be
entertained, for honesty has with him ceased to be a habit. <p 324>

We classify individuals largely by means of their personal and social
habits. By these the gentleman is recognized as surely as the boor. By
means of them we select our friends and engage new employees. Efficiency
in every life calling depends upon our success in dealing with people. Such
success is largely dependent upon the social habits that we acquire.

OCCUPATION HABITS

Until the recent rise of interest in psychology, relatively little attention had
been given to the study of those habits which are developed in business.
When proper care is not given to the formation of these habits developed in

connection with one's daily occupation, wrong habits are certain to appear.
The mason makes two motions with his trowel where he should make but
one. The accountant substitutes ``short cuts'' in adding where all the
operations should be taken in regular order and made as automatic as the
few short cuts previously developed. The executive has the <p 325> habit
of depending upon ``desultory'' memory where the logical should be
developed. The salesman in speaking to a critical customer says ``he don't,''
instead of saying ``he doesn't''; ``gents' goods'' instead of ``men's goods.''
Every investigation into the human actions and the human methods of
thinking as involved in business reveals the presence of unfortunate habits
such as the examples here cited.

Therefore, one of the most noteworthy events in the business and
industrial world of the last twenty years is the study of the occupation habits
of the workman to which reference was made in the first paragraphs of this
chapter. The research has been especially successful in dealing with the
occupation habits of mechanics.

The fundamental discovery was made that the workman's occupation
habits are not such as enable him to accomplish his task in an economical
and efficient manner. To discover what occupation habits should be
developed, experts in each of several typical establishments were assigned
the task of <p 326> making a careful study of every movement of eye,
hand, foot, and body, and the rate and sequence of all the movements
necessary for performing single tasks most easily and efficiently. The
experts were also to study the tools, the materials, and conditions best
adapted to the work. In general, the experts found the greatest opportunity
for improvement in the *movements of the men. As a result of this research,
numerous processes have been scientifically standardized. The workmen
have been taught the new and better way and have been drilled till the
processes have been, so far as possible, reduced to occupation habits. The

workmen have been easily induced to acquire the new habits, as their
earning capacity is thereby greatly increased. Ordinarily, a considerable
bonus is awarded to all workmen who develop the desired habits and
perform the task exactly as prescribed by the expert.

An investigation into the results secured from the adoption of this
scientific attempt to study and to regulate the occupation <p 327> habits of
workmen reveals most gratifying success.

Mr. H. R. Hathaway, an expert engineer, testifies that ``under this system
a workman can turn out from two to four times as much work'' as he was
able to accomplish when working with his old habits,

Mr. Lewis Sanders, of the General Engineering Company, New York,
reports most satisfactory results from the introduction of this systematic
attempt to regulate the occupation habits of employees. A typical example
which he reports is the following: It regularly took a man one minute and
forty seconds to set a piece in a jig. ``After a study of the exact motions
required to pick the piece up and set it accurately, we showed the same man
how to do it in twenty seconds.'' This workman soon reduced the correct
movement to habit, attained the specified speed, and without in any way
working harder than formerly was assisted to increase his efficiency four
hundred per cent.

A well-known engineering company re- <p 328> quired the reading of
twelve thermometers, each every two minutes. The man assigned to the task
could rarely read so many as eight of them in the two minutes. An expert
took up the problem and at first could do no better than the first man. The
expert studied the most favorable position of the head and eyes for reading,
eliminated all useless motions, and discovered that the twelve thermometers
could then be read in one minute and fifty seconds. The workman who
previously had with difficulty read eight thermometers in two minutes soon

acquired the proper occupation habits and was enabled to read the twelve
with perfect ease. His efficiency was increased forty per cent, and the task
was rendered less exacting than before.

Typewriting is carried on by habits. The habit of writing most naturally
formed is that known as the sight system. Recently, attempts have been
successfully made to enable the operators to form the habit of writing by
touch rather than by sight. The <p 329> operator who acquires the habit of
locating the keys by touch writes much faster and with less nervous strain
than the operator who writes from sight.

No one has been more successful in studying occupation habits than Mr.
Frank B. Gilbreth, an expert in the building trades. He discovered that in
constructing a brick wall a good mason can lay one hundred and twenty
bricks in an hour and that in laying each brick he makes eighteen distinct
motions. The motions were not made in an economical sequence; some of
them were useless, and merely exhausted the energy of the workman. Mr.
Gilbreth attempted to apply to the industry of bricklaying the principles of
billiard playing. Every motion of the mason should be a ``play for position.''
He should make each motion so as to be ready for the next. For example,
the motion of placing the mortar for the end joint should end with the
trowel in position ready to cut off the hanging mortar. When the motions are
made in the correct sequence, <p 330> two or more of them can be
combined and performed in but little more time than would be required to
make each of the separate motions. Thus, cutting off mortar, buttering the
end of the laid brick, and reaching for more mortar can all be performed as
a single movement. In this way the motions of the mason have been
reduced from eighteen to five per brick. All this change has been brought
about from a study of the occupation habits of masons. In discussing the
results, Mr. Gilbreth says: ``It has changed the entire method of laying
bricks by reducing the kind, number, sequence, and length of motions. The

economic value of motion study has been proved by the fact that we have
more than tripled the workman's output in bricklaying and at the same time
lowered cost and increased wages simultaneously, and the end is not yet.''

Attempts to develop beneficial occupation habits in executives have not
yet been exhaustively and scientifically carried out. Such experiments are,
however, sure to be <p 331> successful, and it is quite probable that before
another decade has passed the habits of executives will have been as
successfully studied and controlled as have the occupation habits of
mechanics cited above.

The introduction of physics and chemistry have led to marvelous results
in methods of manufacture and transportation. Those who have given most
attention to the advances of psychology during the past two decades are
confident that by the proper application of psychology the efficiency of men
is to be increased beyond the idle dream of the optimist of the past. Since
by a study of habits the efficiency of men in fundamental occupations has
been increased from forty to four hundred per cent, it is hard to prophesy
what results are to be secured from more extensive studies.

{The remaider of this etext (Index + Advert.) is raw OCR}
INDEX

Ability, potential, 231. Accidents, mine, 96. Acclimated, 17.
Acclimatization, 18. Accountant, experienced, 319. Advance, periods of,
232; of learning, 242. Africa, 189. Air, 172; foul, 180. Alertness, mental, 44.
Alphabet, repeating, 284. Altruistic, 203. American, business, 24; steel-
makers, 48, 206; executives, 118; ideals, 205; people, 209 f., 219.
Architecture, 174. Armour, 87. Athletic, contest, 9; events, 169; trainer, 2

11. Attention, 3; passive, 109 f.; secondary passive, 112 ff.; voluntary, III
ff., 123, 234, 249 ff., 279. Attitudes, 132 ff., 177; receptive, 182, 183, 187;
promotion of, 193, 202, 215; ``do-or-die,'' 250; personal, 279 ff. Authority,
plenary, 88.

``Bad days,'' 207.
Bessemer converters, 48.
Bicycles, 194.
``Big'' selling months, 72.
``Bogy'' in golf, 55 f.
Bohemian woman, 288.
Bonus, 35, 142, 145, 165, 178,
252, 304; system, 297, 326.
Book, W. F., ``Psychology of
Skill,'' 227.
Bookkeeping, experience in, 282.
Boor, 324.
Boss, 49, 83, 178, 253.
Boy, messenger, 7; errand, 277.
Brain, 309.
Breakdowns, 208.
`` Breaking in,'' 41, 232, 237.
British Iron and Steel Institute,
49.
Brooding, habit of, 216.
Bryan & Harter, Psychological
Review, 230.

Cabinet meetings,'' 119.
Campaign, educational, 102, 155;
advertising, 238.

Capacities, mental, 134, 178.
Capitalizing
experience, 303 ff.
Carnegie,
Andrew, 49 ff.; mills,
57 f., 87; his cabinet, 94 f.,
221.
Caution in competition, 61.
Cells, brain and muscle, 172,
173.
<p 333>
<p 334>
Chemistry, 4, 7, 331.
Christ,
85, 206.
Clauston, Dr., 206.
Cleveland, Grover, 188.
Clubs, local, 220.
Coach, 9, 303.
Coaching, effect of, 9, 10.
College grades, 16.
Combustion, 171.
Commendation in competition,
62 f., 73.
Competition, 48 ff .
Concentration,
104 ff .
Connection,
body and mind, 121.
Consciousness, 172.

Conservation of individuality,
94.
Consumption,
comparative, 50,
172,173.
Contests, 68; shooting match, 69;
balloon race, 70.
Co<o:>peration of employees, 80.
Cost of living, 160.
Courses, co<o:>perative, 270 f; in
college, 282; automatic, 320.
Crane, R. P., 20.
Curve practice, 224 ff.

Danger signal, 211.
Darwin, Charles, 22 ff.
Devices, mechanical, 170.
Dickens, C., 176.
Discipline, 11, 179.
Discomfort,
165, 177.
Disparity, 168.
Dissipations, 220.
Distinction, social, 141.
Distribution,
1, 3, 4-

Doherty, H. L., 217.
``Dragged out,'' 08.
Drill, 3.

``Easy improvements,'' 246.
Edison, 14, 37.
Education, industrial, 201; work
on, 21Q; school, 264; theoretical,
299.
Efficiency, see Chap. 1, 7, A;
personal, io5, 18o, 186; curve
Of, 223, 251; high, 240; slumps
in, 253.
Effort, voluntary, 111[, 124.
Electric, fans, YL66; lights, 2.
`` Employment,'' ioi.
Energies, 16; mental, 20; expenditure
Of, 21.
Engines, gas, 2; steam turbine, 2.
English, ironmasters, 48, 319,
320.
Enthusiasm, 186, 1187, 190.
Environment, physical, 2, 179 f.,
18o; factors in, 253.
Establishments, 49, 158; successful,
175.
European, 208.
Exhaustion, A8, 172, 173, 284.
Experience, see Chaps. XI-XII;
most valuable, 296.
Expression, verbal, 3oi.

``February sale,'' 53.
Field, Marshall, 87, 94, 193.
Fluctuations, in learning, 232;

subject to, 249.
Food, 172.
Football, 9.
<p 335>
Forfeiture of bond, 75.
French, reading, 284.
Fulton,
37.
``Garden cities,'' 122.
General Electric CO., 271.
Generations, rising, 220.
Geniuses, potential, T.9i; business,
igi.
German, 319, 320.
`` Getting together,'' 198.
Gilbreth, F. B., 329 f.
Girls, sewing, 05.
Gladstone, 113, 2 2 1.
Golf, 54; bogy, 194, 248.
``Go stale,'' 235, 251.
Government, paternalistic, 8o.
Grant, 9r.
Grasp, intellectual, 22.
Great Lakes, 48.
Greece,
ancient, 219.
Grip, maximum, 225 f.
Guilds, industrial, 1197-

Habit formation, see Chap. XIII; special conditions, 296 ff., 3o8; social,
323; personal, 3 2 1 reduce exhaustion, 318. Handicaps, in competition, 61;

principle of, 61 f. Handy men,'' o6, 253. Harriman, E. H., 17. Hathaway, H.
R., 327. Health and vigor, 278. Herculean, 14, 205. Hill, J. J., 20, Hours,
reasonable, 82; of freedom, 219.

House organs,'' see papers, 35; photographs in, 63, 67, 69, House
patriotism,'' 8o; history and policies, go; picnics, 101. Human sympathy, as
a factor, 85 ff.

Idaho orchard, 287.
Ideas, management, 44.
Illumination, i8o.
Imitation, 26 ff., 53; voluntary,
30.
Improvements,
periods Of, 233.
Incubation, periods Of, 233, 247,
249, 253.
Industrial
towns, 122.
Industry, attitude of, 136.
Injuries, 16q.
Instincts, to collect, 139, 188;
hunting, 188; specific, igo;
of man, igo; of competition,
64.
Institute, Smithsonian, r8g.
Insurance, 16o.
Interests, outside, 222; novelty,
239, 249; sustained, 240;
appeals to, 240; spontaneous,
251.

In the running,'' 71.
Instruction,
270 f.
Invention, 3, 48, 217; flagging,
239.

James, Professor William, 207, 218) 30. Jefferson, gi. Jones, W. R.) A 50
f. <p 336> Judgments, practical, 285 ff.; reflective, 287 ff. ; expert, 293 ff.

Knowledge, empirical, 244; acquired, 243.

Labor, hand, 3, 101; intellectual, 168, 70; manual, r68; dignity of, 19q.
Law, 7. Lawyers, 175. Learning, rate Of, 231. Lincoln, 9r. Love of the
game, 186 ff.; classifying, 19o; summarized, 192; social prestige, 194,
1195; tostimulate, 97; developing, 202. Loyalty, 75 ff . Lyons, Joseph, 208,
209.

McCormick, C. H., 24.
Machinist, skilled, 26o.
Magician, i.
Making Experience an Asset,
276 ff.
Making good,'' 71, 25T.
Making Psychology Practical,''
301.
Manager, 6, 154; successful, 143;
office, 244.
Marketing, 3.
Medium of competition, 64.
Memory, desultory, 325.
Methods, business, i; specific, 25;

of training, iig; improved, 181,
304; acquisition Of, 243, 266 ff.

Millennium, 203. Miser, i4o. Models, energetic, 2, 33. Mood, mental,
218. Movements, preleamed, 246; necessary, 303 ff. Muck raking, 195-

National Cash Register CO., 272.
Nature, laws Of, 211.
Need,'' 73.
New blood,'' 156, 276.
New York Herald, 210.
Nourishment, 18.
Nervous system, 12.
Novice, 244, 277.

Ohio territory, o8.
One thing,'' 315.
Organization spirit,'' 8o, 84.
Ornamentation, unobtrusive, i8o.
Output, 158, 165, 167, 08.
`` Overselling,'' 98.
Overtension, 214.

Pace, 2.
Pacemaker, 52.
`` Pain economy,'' 179.
Palmer,
Potter, 87.
Papers, weekly or monthly, 35.
Peers, rivalry between, 56.
Perseverance, 16q.
Personal relations in loyalty, 83.

Personal
relationship with workers,
87 ff .
Personality,
84, 87, 93~ 176.
Philanthropy, 221 f.
Physics, 7, 331.
<p 337>
Piano playing, 284.
``Pick Up,'' 259.
Piecework, 142,143, 145) 162,178,
252.
Plans, profit-sharing, go.
Plateau, 233 ff., 239, 243 ff.
Pleasure,
165 ff .
Policy,
house's, 152; Multiple
tryout, 99.
Population, British, 207.
`` Pop Up,'' 127.
Poverty,
179.
Practice
plus Theory, 254 ff .
Press,
printing, 2; punch, 3.
Preventive, 16q.
Prizes in competition, 62, 67,
165.

Production, instruments of, i.
Profits, surrender of, 84.
Promotions, 73, 101, 155, 156,
157.
Prostrations, nervous, 21.
Psychology, 6, 7; law Of, 25;
modem, 20; work on, 132;
conception Of, T34; student of,
x38; research, iog; course,
295, 300, 3o8 ff.; interest in,
324, 331.
Public opinion, 75.
Puzzle,
Chinese block, 266 ff.;
mechanical, 290; results Of, 291.

Quarters, working, 82.
Quota, 72.

Rate of Improvement in Efficiency,
223 ff.
Recognition, social, 148.

Recreation, 174; hours Of, 221.
Recruits, new, 46, 96.
Regiments, 57.
Relaxation,
204 ff.; necessity for,
210; power Of. 214; gospel Of.
215;
complete, 216.

Research, 14.
Resistance, line of, i io.
Reward, monetary, 139.
''
Right way, 11 252.
Rockefeller, 221.
R6oms, work, 181; lunch, 181.
Roosevelt, Theodore, 13, 189.
``Rush'' months, 65; seasons,
72.

Sales quota,'' 65 ff .
Sanders,
Lewis, 327.
San
Francisco fire, 98.
School, night, 181, 201 ; life, 282
engineering, 270, 299; sales.
men
training, 28 f.
Scientific manage-it,'' 252
Scientific study, 5.
Second wind, 12.
Self-preservation, means of, 139,
139, 144; instincts of, 1141 .
Self-protection, methods of, iij.
Selling, haphazard, 5o.
Settlement workers, 220.
Shadwell, Arthur, 206.
Ships, steam, 2.
`` Showing how,'' 46.

`` Sidelines,'' 26, 131Y 154.
Simmons,
E. C., 20.
Sixth sense, 6.
Skill, special, 43; acquisition of,
246; act of, 256; in perform-
<p 338>
ing, 256 ff.; perfection Of, 262,
264 f.
Sleep, 14.
``Slowing down'' process, 32.
Slump, summer, 165 f.; general,
226 ; profound, 247.
Social, Y94; prestige, 202; demands,
279.
Social approval, desire for, 72.
Society, organized, 113; whims
Of, 194.
Speed, extra, 83; daily record for,
224; average, 224, 282; economical,
304.
Speeding up, 34, 313.
Spencer,
Herbert, 219.
`` Sporting editor,'' 69, 73.
`` Square deal,'' 99.
Stability, native, 2 2 f.
Stagnation, periods of, 233.
Standard, of artist, 197; Of
capitalist, 197; method, 252;

of efficiency, 253.
`` Star'' club, 67.
``Steady job,'' 154.
`` Stealing his trade,'' 26o ff.
Steel Corporation, 5o ff.
Stephenson, 37.
Stepping stones, 196.
Stimulus, YL96; personal efficiencyideals,
279.
Storage battery, 174.
Strength,
muscular, 7, 183, 184;
physical, 226.
Strike, 161.
Students, 16, 133; colleges, 278.
Subordinate, 187.
Success, first, 239-

Suggestible, 177.
Suggestion, 177, 178, 183, 185.
Sunday,219.
`` Swell,'' 196.
Swift, E. J., ``Mind in the
Making,'' 231.
System, apprentice, 26; suggestion,
44; premium, 178.

Talks to Teachers,'' 208, 219.
Taylor, F. W., 5 ff., 24.
Teachers, college, 270.
Team work, go, 145.

Telegraph, 7; operator, 226 f.
Telephone, 2, 7.
Temperature,
165.
Tennis, 284 f.
Therapeutics, mental, 214.
Thompson, Edgar, works, Si.
Torrid zone, 17 f.
Traditions and ideals, or.
Trifles, I.
Trips, educational, 44 ff.
Tugboat, 213, 2X4,

Union, assemblers', 152.
Union Pacific, 17.

Vacation camps, iox.
Vacations, 14.
Ventilation, 179.

Wages, fair, 82, 153,~ cOrAmiFsions, 143; piece rates for, i5o;
maximum, 152; sums paid in, 153; value, 241; little or no, 262. Wanamaker,
John, 271. <p 339> Warming up, I 1, 12, 232. ``Wars,'' 68. Washington, 85)
91. Waste, elimination of, 6; body, 173; poisonous, 173; in methods, 261.
Watson, E. P., 13 f. Weariness, 12; aftermath of, 177-

``Welfare,'' features, 122.
Westinghouse, 37.
Will, effort of, 111, 124; strength
Of, ITLI.
Wizard, I.

Yawning, contagion of, 31.

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of mild philosophy and of pointed wit.''—Boston Globe.
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HEARN.

A thousand books have been written about Japan, but this one is one of
the rarely precious volumes which opens the door to an intimate
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Its whole tone and spirit is of a sane, healthy optimism.''—Philadelphia
Telegraph.

Hillquit- Socialism in Theory and Practice. By MORRIS HILLQUIT.
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Hodges—Everyman's Religion. By GEORGE HODGES.

``Religion to-day is preeminently ethical and social, and such is the
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Home—David Livingstone. BY SILVESTER C. HORNE.

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Hunter—Poverty. By ROBERT HUNTER.

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Socialist movement throughout the world.''—Review of Reviews.

Jefferson- The Building of the Church. BY CHARLES E. JEFFERSON.
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King-The Laws of Friendship- Human and Divine. By
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<p 5>
King—Rational Living. By HENRY CHURCHILL KING.

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day—the labor question.''

Patten—The Social Basis of Religion. By SIMON N. PATTEN.
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Pierce—The Tariff and the Trusts. By FRANKLIN PIERCE.

``An excellent campaign document for a non-protectionist.''
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Rauschenbusch—Christianity and the Social Crisis. BY WALTER
RAUSCHENBUSCH.

It is a book to like, to learn from, and to be charmed with.'' New
York Times.

Riis- The Making of an American. BY JACOB RIIS.

``Its romance and vivid incident make it as varied and delightful as any
romance.''—Publisher's Weekly.

Riis—Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. By JACOB RIIS.
`` A refreshing and stimulating picture.''—New York Tribune.

Ryan—A Living Wage; Its Ethical and Economic Aspects. By
REV. J. A. RYAN.

it The most judicious and balanced discussion at the disposal of the
general reader.''—World To-day.

Scott—Increasing Human Efficiency in Business. BY WALTER
DILL SCOTT.

it An important contribution to the literature of business psychology.''-
The American Banker.

St. Maur- The Earth's Bounty. BY KATE V. ST. MAUR.
`` Practical ideas about the farm and garden.''

St. Mar- A Self-supporting Home. BY KATE V. ST.MAUR.

``Each chapter is the detailed account of all the work necessary for one
month -in the vegetable garden, among the small fruits, with the fowls,
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small farm.''—Louisville Courier-Journal.

Sherman- What is Shakespeare? BY L. A. SHERMAN.

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student will be incomplete.''—Daily Telegram.

Sidgwick—Home Life in Germany. By A. SIDGWICK.
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Simons- Social Forces in American History. BY A. W. SIMONS.
A forceful interpretation of events in the light of economics.''
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Smith- The Spirit of American Government. By J. ALLEN SMITH.

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Spargo—Socialism. By JOHN SPARGO.

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Tarbell—History of Greek Art. By T. B. TARBELL.

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Valentine—How to Keep Hens for Profit. BY C. S. VALENTINE.

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Chicago Tribune.

Van Dyke—The Gospel for a World of Sin. By HENRY VAN
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One of the basic books of true Christian thought of to-day and of all
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Van Dyke- The Spirit of America. BY HENRY VAN DYKE.

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``—Philadelphia Press.

Veblen- The Theory of the Leisure Class. By THORSTEIN B.
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The most valuable recent contribution to the elucidation of this
subject.''—London Times.

Vedder- Socialism and the Ethics of Jesus. By HENRY C.
VEDDER.
A timely discussion of a popular theme.''—New York Post.

Walling -Socialism as it Is. By WILLIAM ENGLISH WALLING.

``. . . the best book on Socialism by any American, if not the best book on
Socialism in the English language.'' -Boston Herald.

Wells—New Worlds for Old. By H. G. WELLS.

``As a presentation of Socialistic thought as it is working to-day, this is
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White—The Old Order Changeth. By WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE.

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