WORK.
Work is the natural heritage of mankind. “Man goeth forth unto his work
and to his labour until the evening.” He does so in order to get the
means of livelihood. Yet even those who inherit sufficient to make them
independent must work also. They may not have to work in order to live,
but they must of a certainty work in order to live healthily.
[Sidenote: Necessity for work.]
A certain statesman, well endowed with this world’s goods, has been
known to say that even when he is out of office and on a holiday, he
finds it necessary to his personal comfort to study hard for at least
two or three hours each day, otherwise his nerves and his heart begin
to trouble him. And while making due allowance for patriotism and sense
of duty, there is no doubt that many men who do not need to work for
a living take up work of some sort or other, politics, the army, or
whatever else takes their fancy, because they feel vastly better for
having something definite to do.
[Sidenote: Work as mental exercise.]
Work affords systematic exercise for the mind, and a mind to be healthy
needs exercise as much as the body does. Why is it, then, that if work
is indispensable to our bodily welfare from a health point of view we
all look forward so eagerly to the time when we can retire and leave
it behind us? Yet that seems to be the goal towards which we are most
of us striving. And it is an aimless one, unless a man has some pursuit
by means of which he can use and enjoy his years of leisure, some
absorbing hobby or public work of one sort or other. It is the man who
has applied himself so closely to his business or profession as to have
deadened his interest in other matters, who finds retirement such a
deadly dull affair.
[Sidenote: How to work and be healthy.]
It is often said that a man does his best work before he is forty. The
cry is for young men in every branch of employment, and those who have
reached middle age stand a poor chance if they are so unfortunate as
to lose their situations. Yet their experience ought to make them more
useful and indispensable than at any previous stage in their career. A
man of fifty-five complained to me some years ago that he was being put
on the shelf on account of his age. “Yet I am better fitted to do my
work than I have ever been,” he said.
It is quite true that he was better fitted for it from the point of
view of experience and judgment. Yet he was a confirmed dyspeptic,
and was always taking cold, necessitating frequent absences from his
work, which was a responsible one. And it is just on this very account
that there is a demand for younger and stronger men to-day. Employers
prefer a man who is warranted to turn up when he is wanted, rather than
a more experienced one who is liable to be at home indisposed at the
very time when his services are most urgently needed. They say quite
rightly, “We cannot afford to have a man who is in danger of breaking
down.”
Most of the breakdowns that we meet with are put down to work or
overwork. It is, therefore, looking at the matter from the personal
point of view, a burning question as to how work can be carried out
without bringing in its train this much-dreaded climax. In other words,
“How to work and be healthy.”
It is folly to go blindly on, as so many do, hoping for the best, and
taking no steps to make sure of it. It is not work, but the conditions
under which it is done, that accounts for the loss of health which so
often accompanies it. And much of this loss, and most of the breakdowns
which occur as a result of it, may be avoided by a careful, practical
study of the whole question.
We need to look at it from three points: before, during, and after work.
[Sidenote: Before work.]
If a man lies in bed until the last minute dresses in a hurry, perhaps
cutting his chin while shaving and losing his shirt stud, bolts down
his breakfast in the fewest possible minutes, and then runs to catch
his tram or train, it is not to be wondered at if he returns home in
the evening thoroughly fagged out. He has started the day by breaking
nearly every rule of health in the course of about three-quarters of
an hour, and is surprised and worried because he finds that his work
takes such a lot out of him. Yet next morning he begins by doing the
very same thing over again.
Then he sighs for the time when he will be able to rest on his oars and
take life easily, leaving “the beastly business” behind him. And so
long as he goes on in the way he is doing, he will sigh for it in vain.
He may feel thankful if he is able to go on with his work, and does not
find himself laid on one side, broken down in health and spirits.
Try an experiment, some of you who see yourselves in the picture I
have just drawn. Get up in good time, and that means going to bed in
good time also the night before. Dress and take your breakfast in
a leisurely manner, and then either go for a turn in the garden or
farther afield if you like, or else have a quiet rest by the fireside,
if the weather is inclement. Give yourself plenty of time to get to
your place of business, and at the end of the day you will be in a
position to decide as to whether it was your work or your way of
starting the day which was to blame.
Of one thing we have little doubt. Even if you do not feel as well as
you might do when you reach home again, you will feel better than you
have done for a long time past. But not so well as you may do before
long. For there are different ways of going about your work, as well as
of preparing for it and getting there.
[Sidenote: During work. Hygiene.]
It is astonishing how many people there are who are careful as to
ventilation and such-like matters in their own homes, but will put up
with all sorts of hygienic defects in their offices. They will sit with
their heads or their feet in cold draughts in the winter time and in
baking hot rooms in the summer. A strip of wood under the door, or a
curtain over it, the removal of a desk to a more convenient position,
or the fixing of a sunblind, as the case may be, would make all the
difference in the world to their comfort and health. Yet they put up
with these inconveniences, and go on taking colds and headaches, just
because it is an office or a place of business and not a private house.
[Sidenote: Noises.]
Noises in the street outside are a frequent cause of tiredness. Through
long custom people fail to hear them, and become unaware of their
existence, but the consequent nervous tension is there all the same.
No expenditure in the shape of mechanical contrivances, even if it
necessitates some re-building, is too great if it can mitigate this
constant source of irritation to the nervous system.
[Sidenote: Telephone.]
As to the telephone, we are almost afraid to mention it, simply because
we have no remedy to suggest. There is no doubt that it has increased
the stress and strain of work considerably, not merely by forcing the
pace, but also by its direct effect on the nerves of the head.
We are only able to offer one piece of advice, and that, we fear, a
poor one. It is this. Do not lose your temper if it is not working
properly. It may be a source of satisfaction to tell the operator at
the Exchange exactly what you think of him and the system in general,
but invective is like a boomerang, it often does more damage to the
thrower than to anyone else.
[Sidenote: Bad light.]
One of the common causes of strain is the habit of writing in a bad
light, or with the eyes facing the light. Nothing causes the brain
more discomfort than a constant glare of light on the face, or trying
to read or write in a poor light. And there is no need for it. It
must be a poor sort of office where the window, or artificial means
of lighting, cannot be so arranged as to illuminate the paper without
causing any strain on the eyesight.
Whether headaches be due to this or any other cause, they should never
be neglected, especially if they are liable to come on while at work.
For repeated headaches, even though they may be but slight, have a
wearing effect on the brain and other parts of the nervous system. They
may be due to most trivial causes in some cases, which is all the more
pity why they should be allowed to persist. A man who was at the head
of a large firm once consulted a doctor because he found that his work
took it out of him more than before. The medical man noticed that the
patient was slightly deaf, though the latter did not seem to be aware
of the fact. On examination, the ears were found to be blocked with
wax, the removal of which restored the man to his usual state of health
and vigour. It had been simply the strain of trying to hear what was
being said which had produced a constant sense of fatigue.
[Sidenote: Midday rest.]
There is one custom which in these busy times tends to be dying out. It
is that of the midday meal rest, the old-fashioned forty winks. “There
is no time for it now,” people say. But there is time for everything,
if we choose to make it. The head of one of the largest firms in this
country used to insist on this rest, no matter how urgent the matters
might be that needed his attention. He kept a couch in his private
office, and each day, as soon as he had had his lunch, he locked the
door, and for twenty minutes took a comfortable rest and snooze. And
woe betide anyone who disturbed him. It was to this custom that he
attributed the fact that he had retained his faculties and vigour to an
age at which most of his confrères were dead or broken down.
Some may prefer to have a walk in the fresh air, and if their
occupation is a sedentary one and they have been cooped up in an office
all the morning, it will probably suit them better than lying down.
[Sidenote: Intervals between meals.]
It is not uncommon to find cases in which there is over-fatigue
because the intervals between the meals is too long, apart from any
circumstances which interfere with them. A man gets his breakfast at
eight o’clock and his lunch at half-past one it may be. He objects to
eating between meals, so takes nothing for the whole of that time. Now
this for most people is too long; the system becomes exhausted, and
has to do its work without proper nourishment. This means that it has
to draw upon the reserve forces, and while this may be done now and
then, it cannot be repeated often without depleting them. Many people
would find the greatest benefit from a little light refreshment in the
course of the morning. They do not need much: a cup of coffee or soup,
or a glass of milk and a biscuit, are quite sufficient to keep them
going until the luncheon hour.
For the same reason a cup of tea with bread and butter or cake about
four o’clock or thereabouts is an excellent thing. And like the morning
snack, it provides more than nourishment, for it necessitates a break
and a breath of fresh air, which invigorate the nervous system, and
often enable a man to reach home fresh and well, when otherwise he
would get there jaded and tired.
[Sidenote: Nature of work.]
Sometimes it is the nature of the work which imposes a special strain.
Great responsibilities and grave issues may have to be met, as in the
case of contractors, stockbrokers, etc. An enormous degree of nervous
tension may have to be concentrated into a few minutes. There is no
escaping from it, we know. Yet the man who has consistently looked
after his health, not only in the mornings before setting out but at
all other times, is in a much more satisfactory state to deal with such
emergencies and to bear the strain of them.
[Sidenote: Working against time.]
Often it is working against time which does the harm. Sometimes this
rush cannot be helped. The journalist, for instance, must have his news
or his leader ready by a certain hour. The newspaper, like time and
tide, cannot wait. Yet at other times it _can_ be helped. A man finds
that if he goes on for another hour, instead of going to his lunch or
dinner at the proper time, he can finish what there is to do. He may
finish his work, to be sure. Often he finishes himself at the same
time. It would be to his advantage in the long run, if he left the work
and had his meal, and returned to complete his duties afterwards.
This interference with meal-times is a fruitful source of nervous
exhaustion and breakdown. The system is deprived of nourishment
just when it is most in need of it. Every meal postponed under such
circumstances brings the hour of retribution nearer.
[Sidenote: Mental effect of hurry.]
Apart from interference with meals, working against time has a bad
effect of its own. It is like running for a train. A man who could
cover the same distance in the same time without any effort if there
was no train to catch will arrive at the station breathless. The
anxiety of getting there in time has caused a mental disturbance, which
has affected the heart on its own account. In the same way there are
cases of nervous exhaustion and loss of health due entirely to the
habit of rushing at correspondence in order to get it off by a certain
post. It may have to be done, but the man would be better off in the
end if he lost the business rather than acquire it at the expense of
his health.
[Sidenote: Public work.]
There is a peculiar strain connected with work which demands appearing
before the public. It is pitiable to reflect how many artistes, actors,
musicians, and others break down in their efforts to give pleasure and
diversion to the tired minds of others.
The reason lies in the fact of their having to do a certain thing at
a certain time, and to do it with an audience. They must give their
performance and maintain their highest standard of excellence, when
perchance their heads are aching, or they have got a bad cold and are
only fit to be in bed. They must be up to time, or they may find their
place occupied by another.
For similar reasons the parson is always vastly more liable to
breakdowns than the lawyer or doctor. He may get up feeling tired
or ill on Sunday morning, but, except at the risk of causing great
inconvenience to others, he must put in an appearance in the pulpit.
Yet there is another consideration which enters even more largely into
the question. It is that these public appearances often interfere
with meal-times and sleep. A performance or a meeting in the evening
necessitates a delayed supper and late hours of retiring to rest. The
nervous system is at the same time worked up into an excited condition,
so that it has its rest and nourishment cut off just when it stands
most in need of both.
Much of this may, however, be avoided by judicious care. There have
been speakers, artistes and other public characters who have been able
to continue in harness up to an advanced age. They have achieved this
simply by strict attention to the needs of the body. They would fortify
themselves with a good meal beforehand; whatever else happened, they
would not allow that function to be interfered with. If they could not
get food before leaving home, they would arrange for it to be ready for
them at the rendezvous. On arriving home again, they would give their
nervous systems the best chance by taking a meal and then having a
quiet read, with a smoke if they were so inclined, afterwards going to
bed as soon as was compatible with their digestions.
Many of these may seem trivial details, yet it is the little things of
life which amount to so much; and if these precautions are observed,
there are many weary workers in all ranks of life who will find that
labour loses much of its drudgery. If everyone were to carry them out,
we should see fewer haggard faces and tired eyes than we do at present.
One has only to travel in any suburban train to find out how many
people there are who go home each evening weary and done up. This is
not what life was meant to be. Honest fatigue there will always be, but
no one objects to that. It is the jaded despondency on the faces of so
many people at the close of their day’s work that is contrary to all
principles of humanity. It is one thing to be tired; it is a different
thing to reach home more dead than alive, and ready to drop.
If people would take more care in preparing themselves for their daily
duties, and in improving their conditions of work, both for themselves
and their employees, we should hear very much less of breakdowns than
we do at present.
[Sidenote: After work.]
The way in which people spend their spare time in the evenings is of
the greatest importance. It is their opportunity for repairing the
wear and tear of the day’s work, and of fitting themselves to stand
the brunt of that which is to come. The manner in which they spend it
depends largely on the nature of the day’s proceedings.
[Sidenote: Exercise or rest.]
If a man has been sitting at a desk all day, he will be all the better
for a walk on returning home. It will give him a chance of fresh air,
and the exercise will do his cramped legs good. If, however, he is
tired in body as well as mind, a rest is what he needs. A man was once
suffering in health, and always feeling done up. He rarely had an
appetite for his dinner in the evening. It was all due to one thing.
He was in the habit of going for an hour’s hard walk each evening
after returning from business. He did it with the best of motives,
being impressed with the value of exercise. He overlooked the fact
that he had had as much exercise as he could stand already, as his
work not only threw a strain on his thinking powers, but also involved
a constant amount of standing or walking throughout the day. When
he stopped taking this duty walk--for such it was, it gave him no
pleasure, as he was too tired to enjoy it--his health improved by leaps
and bounds.
There are many such persons who would feel vastly better, and have
better appetites and digestions, if they took a rest on reaching home,
instead of rushing off to golf or for a walk. It would refresh them as
much as exercise braces up those who have had too little of it during
the day.
[Sidenote: Amusements.]
As to the recreations with which people seek to restore their lost
energies, that too must vary according to the nature of their daily
avocation. Chess is a splendid game, there is no doubt. Yet anyone
who has had a mental strain all day had better choose something that
demands less call on their thinking powers. Under such circumstances we
confess to a preference for something of a lighter or more frivolous
nature. Anyhow, in whatever way people choose to spend their evenings
let it be a _change_, for in that way alone can rest be obtained.
The brain worker had better select fiction or some such light form
of literature if he is disposed for reading. But there are thousands
of people whose work is cut and dried, and does not involve any
mental strain, who would improve both their minds and their sense of
well-being by taking up some reading or hobby which demands a certain
amount of application and study.
The great point after all is to do something, anything rather than
nothing. Not that they can do nothing if they try, for it is an
impossible feat, as we all know. Yet the trying to do it is the
greatest effort a man can make, and tires him out more rapidly than
anything else.