JIMMY WILL ACCEPT A POSITION.
Following his graduation he went to New York to visit with one of his
classmates for a short time before returning home. He was a very
self-satisfied Jimmy, nor who can wonder, since almost from his
matriculation there had been constantly dinned into his ears the
plaudits of his fellow students. Jimmy Torrance had been the one big
outstanding feature of each succeeding class from his freshman to his
senior year, and as a junior and senior he had been the acknowledged
leader of the student body and as popular a man as the university had
ever known.
To his fellows, as well as to himself, he had been a great success--the
success of the university--and he and they saw in the future only
continued success in whatever vocation he decided to honor with his
presence. It was in a mental attitude that had become almost habitual
with him, and which was superinduced by these influences, that Jimmy
approached the new life that was opening before him. For a while he
would play, but in the fall it was his firm intention to settle down to
some serious occupation, and it was in this attitude that he opened a
letter from his father--the first that he had received since his
graduation.
The letter was written on the letterhead of the Beatrice Corn Mills,
Incorporated, Beatrice, Nebraska, and in the upper left-hand corner, in
small type, appeared "James Torrance, Sr., President and General
Manager," and this is what he read:
Dear Jim
You have graduated--I didn't think you would--with honors in
football, baseball, prize-fighting, and five thousand
dollars in debt. How you got your diploma is beyond me--in
my day you would have got the sack. Well, son, I am not
surprised nor disappointed--it is what I expected. I know
you are clean, though, and that some day you will awaken to
the sterner side of life and an appreciation of your
responsibilities.
To be an entirely orthodox father I should raise merry hell
about your debts and utter inutility, at the same time
disinheriting you, but instead I am going to urge you to
come home and run in debt here where the cost of living is
not so high as in the East--meanwhile praying that your
awakening may come while I am on earth to rejoice.
Your affectionate
FATHER,
Am enclosing check to cover your debts and present needs.
For a long time the boy sat looking at the letter before him. He reread
it once, twice, three times, and with each reading the film of
unconscious egotism that had blinded him to his own shortcomings
gradually became less opaque, until finally he saw himself as his father
must see him. He had come to college for the purpose of fitting himself
to succeed in some particular way in the stern battle of life which
must follow his graduation; for, though his father had ample means to
support him in indolence, Jimmy had never even momentarily considered
such an eventuality.
In weighing his assets now he discovered that he had probably as
excellent a conception of gridiron strategy and tactics as any man in
America; that as a boxer he occupied a position in the forefront of
amateur ranks; and he was quite positive that out-side of the major
leagues there was not a better first baseman.
But in the last few minutes there had dawned upon him the realization
that none of these accomplishments was greatly in demand in the business
world. Jimmy spent a very blue and unhappy hour, and then slowly his
natural optimism reasserted itself, and with it came the realization of
his youth and strength and inherent ability, which, without egotism, he
might claim.
"And then, too," he mused, "I have my diploma. I am a college graduate,
and that must mean something. If dad had only reproached me or
threatened some condign punishment I don't believe I should feel half as
badly as I do. But every line of that letter breathes disappointment in
me; and yet, God bless him, he tells me to come home and spend his money
there. Not on your life! If he won't disinherit me, I am going to
disinherit myself. I am going to make him proud of me. He's the best dad
a fellow ever had, and I am going to show him that I appreciate him."
And so he sat down and wrote his father this reply:
DEAR DAD:
I have your letter and check. You may not believe it, but
the former is worth more to me than the latter. Not,
however, that I spurn the check, which it was just like you
to send without a lot of grumbling and reproaches, even if I
do deserve them.
Your letter shows me what a rotten mess I have made of
myself. I'm not going to hand you a lot of mush, dad, but I
want to try to do something that will give you reason to at
least have hopes of rejoicing before I come home again. If I
fail I'll come home anyway, and then neither one of us will
have any doubt but what you will have to support me for the
rest of my life. However, I don't intend to fail, and one of
these days I will bob up all serene as president of a bank
or a glue factory. In the mean time I'll keep you posted as
to my whereabouts, but don't send me another cent until I
ask for it; and when I do you will know that I have failed.
Tell mother that I will write her in a day or two, probably
from Chicago, as I have always had an idea that that was one
burg where I could make good.
With lots of love to you all,
Your affectionate
SON.
It was a hot July day that James Torrance, Jr., alighted from the
Twentieth Century Limited at the La Salle Street Station, and, entering
a cab, directed that he be driven to a small hotel; "for," he
soliloquized, "I might as well start economizing at once, as it might be
several days before I land a job such as I want," in voicing which
sentiments he spoke with the tongues of the prophets.
Jimmy had many friends in Chicago with whom, upon the occasion of
numerous previous visits to the Western metropolis, he had spent many
hilarious and expensive hours, but now he had come upon the serious
business of life, and there moved within him a strong determination to
win financial success without recourse to the influence of rich and
powerful acquaintances.
Since the first crushing blow that his father's letter had dealt his
egotism, Jimmy's self-esteem had been gradually returning, though along
new and more practical lines. His self-assurance was formed in a similar
mold to those of all his other salient characteristics, and these
conformed to his physical proportions, for physically, mentally and
morally Jimmy Torrance was big; not that he was noticeably taller than
other men or his features more than ordinarily attractive, but there was
something so well balanced and harmonious in all the proportions of his
frame and features as to almost invariably compel a second glance from
even a casual observer, especially if the casual observer happened to be
in the nonessential creation class.
And so Jimmy, having had plenty of opportunity to commune with himself
during the journey from New York, was confident that there were many
opportunities awaiting him in Chicago. He remembered distinctly of
having read somewhere that the growing need of big business concerns was
competent executive material--that there were fewer big men than there
were big jobs--and that if such was the case all that remained to be
done was to connect himself with the particular big job that suited him.
In the lobby of the hotel he bought several of the daily papers, and
after reaching his room he started perusing the "Help Wanted" columns.
Immediately he was impressed and elated by the discovery that there were
plenty of jobs, and that a satisfactory percentage of them appeared to
be big jobs. There were so many, however, that appealed to him as
excellent possibilities that he saw it would be impossible to apply for
each and every one; and then it occurred to him that he might occupy a
more strategic position in the negotiations preceding his acceptance of
a position if his future employer came to him first, rather than should
he be the one to apply for the position.
And so he decided the wisest plan would be to insert an ad in the
"Situations Wanted" column, and then from the replies select those
which most appealed to him; in other words, he would choose from the
cream of those who desired the services of such a man as himself rather
than risk the chance of obtaining a less profitable position through
undue haste in seizing upon the first opening advertised.
Having reached this decision, and following his habitual custom, he
permitted no grass to grow beneath his feet. Writing out an ad, he
reviewed it carefully, compared it with others that he saw upon the
printed page, made a few changes, rewrote it, and then descended to the
lobby, where he called a cab and was driven to the office of one of the
area's metropolitan morning newspapers.
Jimmy felt very important as he passed through the massive doorway into
the great general offices of the newspaper. Of course, he didn't exactly
expect that he would be ushered into the presence of the president or
business manager, or that even the advertising manager would necessarily
have to pass upon his copy, but there was within him a certain sensation
that at that instant something was transpiring that in later years would
be a matter of great moment, and he was really very sorry for the
publishers of the newspaper that they did not know who it was who was
inserting an ad in their Situations Wanted column.
He could not help but watch the face of the young man who received his
ad and counted the words, as he was sure that the clerk's facial
expression would betray his excitement. It was a great moment for Jimmy
Torrance. He realized that it was probably the greatest moment of his
life--that here Jimmy Torrance ceased to be, and James Torrance, Jr.,
Esq., began his career. But though he carefully watched the face of the
clerk, he was finally forced to admit that the young man possessed
wonderful control over his facial expression.
"That bird has a regular poker-face," mused Jimmy; "never batted an
eye," and paying for his ad he pocketed the change and walked out.
"Let's see," he figured; "it will be in tomorrow morning's edition. The
tired business man will read it either at breakfast or after he reaches
his office. I understand that there are three million people here in
Chicago. Out of that three million it is safe to assume that one million
will read my advertisement, and of that one-million there must be at
least one thousand who have responsible positions which are, at present,
inadequately filled.
"Of course, the truth of the matter is that there are probably tens of
thousands of such positions, but to be conservative I will assume that
there are only one thousand, and reducing it still further to almost an
absurdity, I will figure that only ten per cent of those reply to my
advertisement. In other words, at the lowest possible estimate I should
have one hundred replies on the first day. I knew it was foolish to run
it for three days, but the fellow insisted that that was the proper way
to do, as I got a lower rate.
"By taking it for three days, however, it doesn't seem right to make so
many busy men waste their time answering the ad when I shall doubtless
find a satisfactory position the first day."