Public Speaking



The Old Reliables

When men and women get around to discussing the old reliables, they’re talking about that vast army made up of an unlimited group of stepping stones upon which most other types make their way to the top including “the management” upon which big business depends.

In a conversation about this large percentage of the population, a doting grandfather recently said to his grandson, “I don’t doubt that you’re in the upper ten per cent of your class.” Before answering, the lad raised his head, squared his shoulders, and proudly answered, “No, but I make that ten per cent possible!”

That forthright answer lends itself to food for thought:
Where would the boss be but for his working staff?
Where would modern factories be but for the composite brains of “the management”?
And what would a mayor do if nobody’s sweep the streets?

The “management”

In tracing the evolution of business policies somebody’s always bound to go back to the beginning and talk about the pages of the past being crowded with men who made a mint. But there’s rarely any mention of the ones who did all the detail or the lives they had to live under those tyrannical old time autocrats who ruled with an iron hand. As business expanded and death took its toll of tycoons, more and more industry passed from private ownership to the investing public. Thus the committee system (we call it “the management”) came into being and many of today’s top executives might be compared with a committee chairman. Along with that adjustment, commerce became acquainted with labor relations, public relations, community relations, and other relative problems, and every job gained stature as a cog in the gear. The old free-wheeling business builder ran his own show and did as he’ d pleased. He thrived on long hours, busy phones, and a desk loaded with work. His decisions were made on the spot and the pressure kept him on his toes; his tensions had an outlet, and his own initiative made fantastic fancy turn into fabulous fact.

The organization man who followed in this executive’s footsteps is an entirely different breed; he acts collectively with the rest of the front office management; he has to back up his decisions with other people’s brains, and must rely on statistics, computations and accounting research. Thus deprived of the privilege of making up his own mind, the pressures of the money-making race find him gulping pills, following bland diets, and drinking skimmed milk.

We proudly point to the “plus” marks on our path of progress but increasing heart ailments and ulcers “up front” are on the minus side. Now that an ulcer is a symbol of success, new management talent is at a premium and has been responsible for some strange consolidations and surprise raids on competitive executive suites. When domestic pressures about social engagements he should keep for “relaxation” proved more than one busy executive could take, he summed the situation up for his turtledove by complaining, “You know the work day I put in-two coffee breaks, a three hour lunch, cocktails with customers-and now I have to go partying with you!”

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