Read Online Man in the Gray Flannel Suit by Sloan Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Sloan Wilson
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a chance to work with him, it will be a great privilege.”
“That’s what I think,” Tom said.
“On the other hand,” Dick went on thoughtfully, “I understand that they don’t really want you to work for United Broadcasting–they want you for some private project Ralph Hopkins is dreaming up. There are some dangers for you there. . . .”
Dick paused. “What do you mean?” Tom asked.
“He might get sick of his project and abandon it–a man like Ralph Hopkins is always starting things, trying them out, and discarding the ones that don’t work. If that happened, he might drop you–or he might let you try out at United Broadcasting. But the important thing for you to remember is that when you start work on a private project for a man like Hopkins, you don’t have any clearly defined ladder to climb. You’re just going to have to play it by ear, hoping Hopkins will not lose interest. You won’t have any real profession–your profession will be pleasing Hopkins. And if you fail in that, the experience you’ve had with Hopkins won’t necessarily prepare you for a very good job anywhere else.”
“I can see that,” Tom said.
“What I’m trying to say,” Dick continued, “is that working for Great Men is a profession in itself, and the trouble is that when you’re through with one Great Man, you can’t always find another.”
He’s making it sound as though I’m going to be a professional toady, Tom thought. He’s trying to persuade me not to go. He said nothing.
“I think I ought to add,” Dick said, “that when you leave, if you leave, we’ll have to replace you, and it might not be possible for us to find a position here for you if you returned to look for a job.”
“Of course,” Tom said.
Dick smiled. “Make your own decision,” he said. “Whatever you do, I wish you luck.”
Tom thanked him and went to his own desk. If he had really wanted to keep me he could have offered me a big raise, but that would have encouraged everybody else to threaten to leave, he thought. He couldn’t do that. Or, if he wanted to keep me, all hewould have to do would be to give me a bad reference. He could do it over the telephone and I’d never know about it, but Dick would never even think of that. The union of bosses is powerful, but, within its self-prescribed limits, marvelously scrupulous. Tom glanced at his watch and saw it was almost time for lunch. On his desk was a long report from a college trying to explain what it had done with a half-million-dollar grant the Schanenhauser Foundation had given it a year ago. Tom started to read it. He decided he wouldn’t go to lunch. He worked right through the day, unobtrusively making sure that Dick Haver knew it.
When Tom got back to Westport that night he found the house spotless, and an enormous steak dinner in the oven awaiting him.
“ THERE’S AN APPLE PIE IN THE BREAD BOX ,” Mrs. Manter shouted. “ THE CHILDREN HAVE ET THEIR SUPPER AND ARE IN BED. ”
“Fine,” Tom said. “How is everybody?”
“ YOUR WIFE’S NOT REALLY SICK AT ALL ,” Mrs. Manter said, “ TAKE ME HOME NOW–IT’S ALMOST SIX O’CLOCK.”
Before taking her home, Tom ran up the stairs to see Betsy, who was lying on a neatly made bed looking wilted. “How are you?” he asked.
“Exhausted,” she said. “Just watching that woman makes me exhausted. Do you know what she did? She washed clothes by hand in the bathtub, and she scrubbed all the woodwork in the kitchen. She mowed the lawn. She made cookies. And the children mind her like trained seals. She tells them to keep quiet and they don’t say a word.”
“Maybe we can learn something,” Tom said.
“The children are in their room now keeping quiet.”
“I’ll take her home,” Tom said. “Can you manage till I get back?”
“I won’t tell the children she’s gone,” Betsy said weakly.
At seven the next morning Tom awoke with the knowledge that he had to prepare breakfast for the
“That’s what I think,” Tom said.
“On the other hand,” Dick went on thoughtfully, “I understand that they don’t really want you to work for United Broadcasting–they want you for some private project Ralph Hopkins is dreaming up. There are some dangers for you there. . . .”
Dick paused. “What do you mean?” Tom asked.
“He might get sick of his project and abandon it–a man like Ralph Hopkins is always starting things, trying them out, and discarding the ones that don’t work. If that happened, he might drop you–or he might let you try out at United Broadcasting. But the important thing for you to remember is that when you start work on a private project for a man like Hopkins, you don’t have any clearly defined ladder to climb. You’re just going to have to play it by ear, hoping Hopkins will not lose interest. You won’t have any real profession–your profession will be pleasing Hopkins. And if you fail in that, the experience you’ve had with Hopkins won’t necessarily prepare you for a very good job anywhere else.”
“I can see that,” Tom said.
“What I’m trying to say,” Dick continued, “is that working for Great Men is a profession in itself, and the trouble is that when you’re through with one Great Man, you can’t always find another.”
He’s making it sound as though I’m going to be a professional toady, Tom thought. He’s trying to persuade me not to go. He said nothing.
“I think I ought to add,” Dick said, “that when you leave, if you leave, we’ll have to replace you, and it might not be possible for us to find a position here for you if you returned to look for a job.”
“Of course,” Tom said.
Dick smiled. “Make your own decision,” he said. “Whatever you do, I wish you luck.”
Tom thanked him and went to his own desk. If he had really wanted to keep me he could have offered me a big raise, but that would have encouraged everybody else to threaten to leave, he thought. He couldn’t do that. Or, if he wanted to keep me, all hewould have to do would be to give me a bad reference. He could do it over the telephone and I’d never know about it, but Dick would never even think of that. The union of bosses is powerful, but, within its self-prescribed limits, marvelously scrupulous. Tom glanced at his watch and saw it was almost time for lunch. On his desk was a long report from a college trying to explain what it had done with a half-million-dollar grant the Schanenhauser Foundation had given it a year ago. Tom started to read it. He decided he wouldn’t go to lunch. He worked right through the day, unobtrusively making sure that Dick Haver knew it.
When Tom got back to Westport that night he found the house spotless, and an enormous steak dinner in the oven awaiting him.
“ THERE’S AN APPLE PIE IN THE BREAD BOX ,” Mrs. Manter shouted. “ THE CHILDREN HAVE ET THEIR SUPPER AND ARE IN BED. ”
“Fine,” Tom said. “How is everybody?”
“ YOUR WIFE’S NOT REALLY SICK AT ALL ,” Mrs. Manter said, “ TAKE ME HOME NOW–IT’S ALMOST SIX O’CLOCK.”
Before taking her home, Tom ran up the stairs to see Betsy, who was lying on a neatly made bed looking wilted. “How are you?” he asked.
“Exhausted,” she said. “Just watching that woman makes me exhausted. Do you know what she did? She washed clothes by hand in the bathtub, and she scrubbed all the woodwork in the kitchen. She mowed the lawn. She made cookies. And the children mind her like trained seals. She tells them to keep quiet and they don’t say a word.”
“Maybe we can learn something,” Tom said.
“The children are in their room now keeping quiet.”
“I’ll take her home,” Tom said. “Can you manage till I get back?”
“I won’t tell the children she’s gone,” Betsy said weakly.
At seven the next morning Tom awoke with the knowledge that he had to prepare breakfast for the
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