“And then he shook his old bald gray head. He said: ‘Young fellow, you listen to me. It takes _sense_ to run that system of yours. You’re counting on everybody, from you right down to the boy that works your mimeograph, paying attention to what he’s doing, using his brains and using them every minute. If everybody doesn’t, you won’t get your results, will you? Now, consider this, how did you get hold of a staff that would have any brains to use and would use them? _You_ know how! We let you run a fine tooth comb through our whole organization, thousands and thousands of employees. You took out of every department the very best they had; three or four out of hundreds, and they are the only ones out of thousands who amount to anything after years of training at our expense. And then you put your very best licks into it yourself. Now, who are you? You’re the first stenographer we’ve had in ten years, who took enough interest in the business as a whole to have a single idea about it. You tell me something. Suppose we reorganized along your lines, who would I get to run all the other departments and keep up the high-speed efficiency and red-hot ambition you’ve shown, which is the _only_ reason your scheme works? You know as well as I do I can’t find another _one_, let alone the eighty or ninety I’d have to have, if we tried to do business on your plan. And if I could--supposing for the sake of argument that an angel from Heaven served such department heads to me on a silver platter, where am I going to find staffs to work with them. You’ve _got_ all the really efficient employees we’ve been able to rake in from the whole United States in the past twenty years. “‘Did you ever have to work with a plain, ordinary six-for-a-quarter stenographer, such as the business colleges turn out, such as you mostly get? You’ve built your machine so that only brains and sense will run it. How long would it take a couple of hundred of such stenogs to smash your system into splinters? Did you ever have to try and get work out of the average dressy young employee who puts ninety-eight and a half per cent of what gray matter he has on his neckties and the bets he made on the horse-races, and the little flier he took on stocks; and one and a half per cent of his brains on his work when somebody higher up is looking at him? How do you suppose you can persuade a crowd of light-weights like that to care a whoop whether Mrs. Arrowsmith in Cohoes, N. Y., is satisfied with the color of the linoleum rug she bought?’”