DO IT TO A FINISH
Years ago a relief lifeboat at New London sprung a leak, and while
being repaired a hammer was found in the bottom that had been left
there by the builders thirteen years before. From the constant motion
of the boat the hammer had worn through the planking, clear down to the
plating.
Not long since, it was discovered that a girl had served twenty years
for a twenty months' sentence, in a southern prison, because of the
mistake of a court clerk who wrote "years" instead of "months" in the
record of the prisoner's sentence.
The history of the human race is full of the most horrible tragedies
caused by carelessness and the inexcusable blunders of those who never
formed the habit of accuracy, of thoroughness, of doing things to a
finish.
Multitudes of people have lost an eye, a leg, or an arm, or are
otherwise maimed, because dishonest workmen wrought deception into the
articles they manufactured, slighted their work, covered up defects and
weak places with paint and varnish.
How many have lost their lives because of dishonest work, carelessness,
criminal blundering in railroad construction? Think of the tragedies
caused by lies packed in car-wheels, locomotives, steamboat boilers,
and engines; lies in defective rails, ties, or switches; lies in
dishonest labor put into manufactured material by workmen who said it
was good enough for the meager wages they got! Because people were not
conscientious in their work there were flaws in the steel, which caused
the rail or pillar to snap, the locomotive or other machinery to break.
The steel shaft broke in mid-ocean, and the lives of a thousand
passengers were jeopardized because of somebody's carelessness.
Even before they are completed, buildings often fall and bury the
workmen under their ruins, because somebody was careless,
dishonest--either employer or employee--and worked lies, deceptions,
into the building.
The majority of railroad wrecks, of disasters on land and sea, which
cause so much misery and cost so many lives, are the result of
carelessness, thoughtlessness, or half-done, botched, blundering work.
They are the evil fruit of the low ideals of slovenly, careless,
indifferent workers.
Everywhere over this broad earth we see the tragic results of botched
work. Wooden legs, armless sleeves, numberless graves, fatherless and
motherless homes everywhere speak of somebody's carelessness,
somebody's blunders, somebody's habit of inaccuracy. The worst crimes
are not punishable by law. Carelessness, slipshodness, lack of
thoroughness, are crimes against self, against humanity, that often do
more harm than the crimes that make the perpetrator an outcast from
society. Where a tiny flaw or the slightest defect may cost a precious
life, carelessness is as much a crime as deliberate criminality.
If everybody put his conscience into his work, did it to a complete
finish, it would not only reduce the loss of human life, the mangling
and maiming of men and women, to a fraction of what it is at present,
but it would also give us a higher quality of manhood and womanhood.
Most young people think too much of quantity, and too little of quality
in their work. They try to do too much, and do not do it well. They
do not realize that the education, the comfort, the satisfaction, the
general improvement, and bracing up of the whole man that comes from
doing one thing absolutely right, from putting the trade-mark of one's
character on it, far outweighs the value that attaches to the doing of
a thousand botched or slipshod jobs.
We are so constituted that the quality which we put into our life-work
affects everything else in our lives, and tends to bring our whole
conduct to the same level. The entire person takes on the
characteristics of one's usual way of doing things. The habit of
precision and accuracy strengthens the mentality, improves the whole
character.
On the contrary, doing things in a loose-jointed, slipshod, careless
manner deteriorates the whole mentality, demoralizes the mental
processes, and pulls down the whole life.
Every half-done or slovenly job that goes out of your hands leaves its
trace of demoralization behind. After slighting your work, after doing
a poor job, you are not quite the same man you were before. You are
not so likely to try to keep up the standard of your work, not so
likely to regard your word as sacred as before.
The mental and moral effect of half doing, or carelessly doing things;
its power to drag down, to demoralize, can hardly be estimated because
the processes are so gradual, so subtle. No one can respect himself
who habitually botches his work, and when self-respect drops,
confidence goes with it; and when confidence and self-respect have
gone, excellence is impossible.
It is astonishing how completely a slovenly habit will gradually,
insidiously fasten itself upon the individual and so change his whole
mental attitude as to thwart absolutely his life-purpose, even when he
may think he is doing his best to carry it out.
I know a man who was extremely ambitious to do something very
distinctive and who had the ability to do it. When he started on his
career he was very exact and painstaking. He demanded the best of
himself--would not accept his second-best in anything. The thought of
slighting his work was painful to him, but his mental processes have so
deteriorated, and he has become so demoralized by the habit which,
after a while, grew upon him, of accepting his second-best, that he now
slights his work without a protest, seemingly without being conscious
of it. He is to-day doing quite ordinary things, without apparent
mortification or sense of humiliation, and the tragedy of it all is,
_he does not know why he has failed_!
One's ambition and ideals need constant watching and cultivation in
order to keep up to the standards. Many people are so constituted that
their ambition wanes and their ideals drop when they are alone, or with
careless, indifferent people. They require the constant assistance,
suggestion, prodding, or example of others to keep them up to standard.
How quickly a youth of high ideals, who has been well trained in
thoroughness, often deteriorates when he leaves home and goes to work
for an employer with inferior ideals and slipshod methods!
The introduction of inferiority into our work is like introducing
subtle poison into the system. It paralyzes the normal functions.
Inferiority is an infection which, like leaven, affects the entire
system. It dulls ideals, palsies the aspiring faculty, stupefies the
ambition, and causes deterioration all along the line.
The human mechanism is so constituted that whatever goes wrong in one
part affects the whole structure. There is a very intimate relation
between the quality of the work and the quality of the character. Did
you ever notice the rapid decline in a young man's character when he
began to slight his work, to shirk, to slip in rotten hours, rotten
service?
If you should ask the inmates of our penitentiaries what had caused
their ruin, many of them could trace the first signs of deterioration
to shirking, clipping their hours, deceiving their employers--to
indifferent, dishonest work.
We were made to be honest. Honesty is our normal expression, and any
departure from it demoralizes and taints the whole character. Honesty
means integrity in everything. It not only means reliability in your
word, but also carefulness, accuracy, honesty in your work. It does
not mean that if only you will not lie with your lips you may lie and
defraud in the quality of your work. Honesty means wholeness,
completeness; it means truth in everything--in deed and in word.
Merely not to steal another's money or goods is not all there is to
honesty. You must not steal another's time, you must not steal his
goods or ruin his property by half finishing or botching your work, by
blundering through carelessness or indifference. Your contract with
your employer means that you will give him your best, and not your
second-best.
"What a fool you are," said one workman to another, "to take so much
pains with that job, when you don't get much pay for it. 'Get the most
money for the least work,' is my rule, and I get twice as much money as
you do."
"That may be," replied the other, "but I shall like myself better, I
shall think more of myself, and that is more important to me than
money."
You will like yourself better when you have the approval of your
conscience. That will be worth more to you than any amount of money
you can pocket through fraudulent, skimped, or botched work. Nothing
else can give you the glow of satisfaction, the electric thrill and
uplift which come from a superbly-done job. Perfect work harmonizes
with the very principles of our being, because we were made for
perfection. It fits our very natures.
Some one has said: "It is a race between negligence and ignorance as to
which can make the more trouble."
Many a young man is being kept down by what probably seems a small
thing to him--negligence, lack of accuracy. He never quite finishes
anything he undertakes; he can not be depended upon to do anything
quite right; his work always needs looking over by some one else.
Hundreds of clerks and book-keepers are getting small salaries in poor
positions today because they have never learned to do things absolutely
right.
A prominent business man says that the carelessness, inaccuracy, and
blundering of employees cost Chicago one million dollars a day. The
manager of a large house in that city, says that he has to station
pickets here and there throughout the establishment in order to
neutralize the evils of inaccuracy and the blundering habit. One of
John Wanamaker's partners says that unnecessary blunders and mistakes
cost that firm twenty-five thousand dollars a year. The dead letter
department of the Post Office in Washington received in one year seven
million pieces of undelivered mail. Of these more than eighty thousand
bore no address whatever. A great many of them were from business
houses. Are the clerks who are responsible for this carelessness
likely to win promotion?
Many an employee who would be shocked at the thought of telling his
employer a lie with his lips is lying every day in the quality of his
work, in his dishonest service, in the rotten hours he is slipping into
it, in shirking, in his indifference to his employer's interests. It
is just as dishonest to express deception in poor work, in shirking, as
to express it with the lips, yet I have known office-boys, who could
not be induced to tell their employer a direct lie, to steal his time
when on an errand, to hide away during working hours to smoke a
cigarette or take a nap, not realizing, perhaps, that lies can be acted
as well as told and that acting a lie may be even worse than telling
one.
The man who botches his work, who lies or cheats in the goods he sells
or manufactures, is dishonest with himself as well as with his fellow
men, and must pay the price in loss of self-respect, loss of character,
of standing in his community.
Yet on every side we see all sorts of things selling for a song because
the maker put no character, no thought into them. Articles of clothing
that look stylish and attractive when first worn, very quickly get out
of shape, and hang and look like old, much-worn garments. Buttons fly
off, seams give way at the slightest strain, dropped stitches are
everywhere in evidence, and often the entire article goes to pieces
before it is worn half a dozen times.
Everywhere we see furniture which looks all right, but which in reality
is full of blemishes and weaknesses, covered up with paint and varnish.
Glue starts at joints, chairs and bedsteads break down at the slightest
provocation, castors come off, handles pull out, many things "go to
pieces" altogether, even while practically new.
"Made to sell, not for service," would be a good label for the great
mass of manufactured articles in our markets to-day.
It is difficult to find anything that is well and honestly made, that
has character, individuality and thoroughness wrought into it. Most
things are just thrown together. This slipshod, dishonest
manufacturing is so general that concerns which turn out products based
upon honesty and truth often win for themselves a world-wide reputation
and command the highest prices.
There is no other advertisement like a good reputation. Some of the
world's greatest manufacturers have regarded their reputation as their
most precious possession, and under no circumstances would they allow
their names to be put on an imperfect article. Vast sums of money are
often paid for the use of a name, because of its great reputation for
integrity and square dealing.
There was a time when the names of Graham and Tampion on timepieces
were guarantees of the most exquisite workmanship and of unquestioned
integrity. Strangers from any part of the world could send their
purchase money and order goods from those manufacturers without a doubt
that they would be squarely dealt with.
Tampion and Graham lie in Westminster Abbey because of the accuracy of
their work--because they refused to manufacture and sell lies.
When you finish a thing you ought to be able to say to yourself:
"There, I am willing to stand for that piece of work. It is not pretty
well done; it is done as well as I can do it; done to a complete
finish. I will stand for that. I am willing to be judged by it."
Never be satisfied with "fairly good," "pretty good," "good enough."
Accept nothing short of your best. Put such a quality into your work
that anyone who comes across anything you have ever done will see
character in it, individuality in it, your trade-mark of superiority
upon it. Your reputation is at stake in everything you do, and your
reputation is your capital. You cannot afford to do a poor job, to let
botched work or anything that is inferior go out of your hands. Every
bit of your work, no matter how unimportant or trivial it may seem,
should bear your trade-mark of excellence; you should regard every task
that goes through your hands, every piece of work you touch, as Tampion
regarded every watch that went out of his shop. It must be the very
best you can do, the best that human skill can produce.
It is just the little difference between the good and the best that
makes the difference between the artist and the artisan. It is just
the little touches after the average man would quit that make the
master's fame.
Regard your work as Stradivarius regarded his violins, which he "made
for eternity," and not one of which was ever known to come to pieces or
break. Stradivarius did not need any patent on his violins, for no
other violin maker would pay such a price for excellence as he paid;
would take such pains to put his stamp of superiority upon his
instrument. Every "Stradivarius" now in existence is worth from three
to ten thousand dollars, or several times its weight in gold.
Think of the value such a reputation for thoroughness as that of
Stradivarius or Tampion, such a passion to give quality to your work,
would give you! There is nothing like being enamored of accuracy,
being grounded in thoroughness as a life-principle, of always striving
for excellence.
No other characteristic makes such a strong impression upon an employer
as the habit of painstaking, carefulness, accuracy. He knows that if a
youth puts his conscience into his work from principle, not from the
standpoint of salary or what he can get for it, but because there is
something in him which refuses to accept anything from himself but the
best, that he is honest and made of good material.
I have known many instances where advancement hinged upon the little
overplus of interest, of painstaking an employee put into his work, on
his doing a little better than was expected of him. Employers do not
say all they think, but they detect very quickly the earmarks of
superiority. They keep their eye on the employee who has the stamp of
excellence upon him, who takes pains with his work, who does it to a
finish. They know he has a future.
John D. Rockefeller, Jr., says that the "secret of success is to do the
common duty uncommonly well." The majority of young people do not see
that the steps which lead to the position above them are constructed,
little by little, by the faithful performance of the common, humble,
every-day duties of the position they are now filling. The thing which
you are now doing will unlock or bar the door to promotion.
Many employees are looking for some great thing to happen that will
give them an opportunity to show their mettle. "What can there be,"
they say to themselves, "in this dry routine, in doing these common,
ordinary things, to help me along?" But it is the youth who sees a
great opportunity hidden in just these simple services, who sees a very
uncommon chance in a common situation, a humble position, who gets on
in the world. It is doing things a little better than those about you
do them; being a little neater, a little quicker, a little more
accurate, a little more observant; it is ingenuity in finding new and
more progressive ways of doing old things; it is being a little more
polite, a little more obliging, a little more tactful, a little more
cheerful, optimistic, a little more energetic, helpful, than those
about you that attracts the attention of your employer and other
employers also.
Many a boy is marked for a higher position by his employer long before
he is aware of it himself. It may be months, or it may be a year
before the opening comes, but when it does come the one who has
appreciated the infinite difference between "good" and "better,"
between "fairly good" and "excellent," between what others call "good"
and the best that can be done, will be likely to get the place.
If there is that in your nature which demands the best and will take
nothing less; if you insist on keeping up your standards in everything
you do, you will achieve distinction in some line provided you have the
persistence and determination to follow your ideal.
But if you are satisfied with the cheap and shoddy, the botched and
slovenly, if you are not particular about quality in your work, or in
your environment, or in your personal habits, then you must expect to
take second place, to fall back to the rear of the procession.
People who have accomplished work worth while have had a very high
sense of the way to do things. They have not been content with
mediocrity. They have not confined themselves to the beaten tracks;
they have never been satisfied to do things just as others do them, but
always a little better. They always pushed things that came to their
hands a little higher up, a little farther on. It is this little
higher up, this little farther on, that counts in the quality of life's
work. It is the constant effort to be first-class in everything one
attempts that conquers the heights of excellence.
It is said that Daniel Webster made the best chowder in his state on
the principle that he would not be second-class in anything. This is a
good resolution with which to start out in your career; never to be
second-class in anything. No matter what you do, try to do it as well
as it can be done. Have nothing to do with the inferior. Do your best
in everything; deal with the best; choose the best; live up to your
best.
Everywhere we see mediocre or second-class men--perpetual clerks who
will never get away from the yardstick; mechanics who will never be
anything but bunglers, all sorts of people who will never rise above
mediocrity, who will always fill very ordinary positions because they
do not take pains, do not put conscience into their work, do not try to
be first-class.
Aside from the lack of desire or effort to be first-class, there are
other things that help to make second-class men. Dissipation, bad
habits, neglect of health, failure to get an education, all make
second-class men. A man weakened by dissipation, whose understanding
has been dulled, whose growth has been stunted by self-indulgences, is
a second-class man, if, indeed, he is not third-class. A man who,
through his amusements in his hours of leisure, exhausts his strength
and vitality, vitiates his blood, wears his nerves till his limbs
tremble like leaves in the wind, is only half a man, and could in no
sense be called first-class.
Everybody knows the things that make for second-class characteristics.
Boys imitate older boys and smoke cigarettes in order to be "smart."
Then they keep on smoking because they have created an appetite as
unnatural as it is harmful. Men get drunk for all sorts of reasons;
but, whatever the reason, they cannot remain first-class men and drink.
Dissipation in other forms is pursued because of pleasure to be
derived, but the surest consequence is that of becoming second-class,
below the standard of the best men for any purpose.
Every fault you allow to become a habit, to get control over you, helps
to make you second-class, and puts you at a disadvantage in the race
for honor, position, wealth, and happiness. Carelessness as to health
fills the ranks of the inferior. The submerged classes that the
economists talk about are those that are below the high-water mark of
the best manhood and womanhood. Sometimes they are second-rate or
third-rate people because those who are responsible for their being and
their care during their minor years were so before them, but more and
more is it becoming one's own fault if, all through life, he remains
second-class. Education of some sort, and even a pretty good sort, is
possible to practically everyone in our land. Failure to get the best
education available, whether it be in books or in business training, is
sure to relegate one to the ranks of the second-class.
There is no excuse for incompetence in this age of opportunity; no
excuse for being second-class when it is possible to be first-class,
and when first-class is in demand everywhere.
Second-class things are wanted only when first-class can't be had. You
wear first-class clothes if you can pay for them, eat first-class
butter, first-class meat, and first-class bread, or, if you don't, you
wish you could. Second-class men are no more wanted than any other
second-class commodity. They are taken and used when the better
article is scarce or is too high-priced for the occasion. For work
that really amounts to anything, first-class men are wanted. If you
make yourself first-class in anything, no matter what your condition or
circumstances, no matter what your race or color, you will be in
demand. If you are a king in your calling, no matter how humble it may
be, nothing can keep you from success.
The world does not demand that you be a physician, a lawyer, a farmer,
or a merchant; but it does demand that whatever you do undertake, you
will do it right, will do it with all your might and with all the
ability you possess. It demands that you be a master in your line.
When Daniel Webster, who had the best brain of his time, was asked to
make a speech on some question at the close of a Congressional session,
he replied: "I never allow myself to speak on any subject until I have
made it my own. I haven't time to do that in this case, hence, I must
refuse to speak on the subject."
Dickens would never consent to read before an audience until he had
thoroughly prepared his selection.
Balzac, the great French novelist, sometimes worked a week on a single
page.
Macready, when playing before scant audiences in country theaters in
England, Ireland, and Scotland, always played as if he were before the
most brilliant audiences in the great metropolises of the world.
Thoroughness characterizes all successful men. Genius is the art of
taking infinite pains. The trouble with many Americans is that they
seem to think they can put any sort of poor, slipshod, half-done work
into their careers and get first-class products. They do not realize
that all great achievement has been characterized by extreme care,
infinite painstaking, even to the minutest detail. No youth can ever
hope to accomplish much who does not have thoroughness and accuracy
indelibly fixed in his life-habit. Slipshodness, inaccuracy, the habit
of half doing things, would ruin the career of a youth with a
Napoleon's mind.
If we were to examine a list of the men who have left their mark on the
world, we should find that, as a rule, it is not composed of those who
were brilliant in youth, or who gave great promise at the outset of
their careers, but rather of the plodding young men who, if they have
not dazzled by their brilliancy, have had the power of a day's work in
them, who could stay by a task until it was done, and well done; who
have had grit, persistence, common sense, and honesty.
The thorough boys are the boys that are heard from, and usually from
posts far higher up than those filled by the boys who were too "smart"
to be thorough. One such boy is Elihu Root, now United States Senator.
When he was a boy in the grammar school at Clinton, New York, he made
up his mind that anything he had to study he would keep at until he
mastered it. Although not considered one of the "bright" boys of the
school, his teacher soon found that when Elihu professed to know
anything he knew it through and through. He was fond of hard problems
requiring application and patience. Sometimes the other boys called
him a plodder, but Elihu would only smile pleasantly, for he knew what
he was about. On winter evenings, while the other boys were out
skating, Elihu frequently remained in his room with his arithmetic or
algebra. Mr. Root recently said that if his close application to
problems in his boyhood did nothing else for him, it made him careful
about jumping at conclusions. To every problem there was only one
answer, and patience was the price to be paid for it. Carrying the
principle of "doing everything to a finish" into the law, he became one
of the most noted members of the New York bar, intrusted with vast
interests, and then a member of the President's cabinet.
William Ellery Channing, the great New England divine, who in his youth
was hardly able to buy the clothes he needed, had a passion for
self-improvement. "I wanted to make the most of myself," he says; "I
was not satisfied with knowing things superficially and by halves, but
tried to get comprehensive views of what I studied."
The quality which, more than any other, has helped to raise the German
people to their present commanding position in the world, is their
thoroughness. It is giving young Germans a great advantage over both
English and American youths. Every employer is looking for
thoroughness, and German employees, owing to their preeminence in this
respect, the superiority of their training, and the completeness of
their preparation for business, are in great demand to-day in England,
especially in banks and large mercantile houses.
As a rule, a German who expects to engage in business takes a four
years' course in some commercial school, and after graduation serves
three years' apprenticeship without pay, to his chosen business.
Thoroughness and reliability, the German's characteristics, are
increasing the power of Germany throughout the civilized world.
Our great lack is want of thoroughness. How seldom you find a young
man or woman who is willing to prepare for his life-work! A little
education is all they want, a little smattering of books, and then they
are ready for business.
"Can't wait," "haven't time to be thorough," is characteristic of our
country, and is written on everything--on commerce, on schools, on
society, on churches. We can't wait for a high-school, seminary, or
college education. The boy can't wait to become a youth, nor the youth
to become a man. Young men rush into business with no great reserve of
education or drill; of course, they do poor, feverish work, and break
down in middle life, while many die of old age in the forties.
Perhaps there is no other country in the world where so much poor work
is done as in America. Half-trained medical students perform bungling
operations, and butcher their patients, because they are not willing to
take time for thorough preparation. Half-trained lawyers stumble
through their cases, and make their clients pay for experience which
the law school should have given. Half-trained clergymen bungle away
in the pulpit, and disgust their intelligent and cultured parishioners.
Many an American youth is willing to stumble through life half prepared
for his work, and then blame society because he is a failure.
A young man, armed with letters of introduction from prominent men, one
day presented himself before Chief Engineer Parsons, of the Rapid
Transit Commission of New York as a candidate for a position. "What
can you do? Have you any specialty?" asked Mr. Parsons. "I can do
almost anything," answered the young man. "Well," remarked the Chief
Engineer, rising to end the interview, "I have no use for anyone who
can 'almost' do anything. I prefer someone who can actually do one
thing thoroughly."
There is a great crowd of human beings just outside the door of
proficiency. They can half do a great many things, but can't do any
one thing well, to a finish. They have acquisitions which remain
permanently unavailable because they were not carried quite to the
point of skill; they stopped just short of efficiency. How many people
almost know a language or two, which they can neither write nor speak;
a science or two, whose elements they have not fully mastered; an art
or two, which they can not practise with satisfaction or profit!
The Patent Office at Washington contains hundreds,--yes, thousands,--of
inventions which are useless simply because they are not quite
practical, because the men who started them lacked the staying quality,
the education, or the ability necessary to carry them to the point of
practicability.
The world is full of half-finished work,--failures which require only a
little more persistence, a little finer mechanical training, a little
better education, to make them useful to civilization. Think what a
loss it would be if such men as Edison and Bell had not come to the
front and carried to a successful termination the half-finished work of
others!
Make it a life-rule to give your best to whatever passes through your
hands. Stamp it with your manhood. Let superiority be your
trade-mark, let it characterize everything you touch. This is what
every employer is looking for. It indicates the best kind of brain; it
is the best substitute for genius; it is better capital than cash; it
is a better promoter than friends, or "pulls" with the influential.
A successful manufacturer says: "If you make a good pin, you will earn
more money than if you make a bad steam engine." "If a man can write a
better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than
his neighbor," says Emerson, "though he build his house in the woods,
the world will make a path to his door."
Never allow yourself to dwell too much upon what you are getting for
your work. You have something of infinitely greater importance,
greater value, at stake. Your honor, your whole career, your future
success, will be affected by the way you do your work, by the
conscience or lack of it which you put into your job. Character,
manhood and womanhood are at stake, compared with which salary is
nothing.
Everything you do is a part of your career. If any work that goes out
of your hands is skimped, shirked, bungled, or botched, your character
will suffer. If your work is badly done; if it goes to pieces; if
there is shoddy or sham in it; if there is dishonesty in it, there is
shoddy, sham, dishonesty in your character. We are all of a piece. We
cannot have an honest character, a complete, untarnished career, when
we are constantly slipping rotten hours, defective material and
slipshod service into our work.
The man who has dealt in shams and inferiority, who has botched his
work all his life, must be conscious that he has not been a real man;
he can not help feeling that his career has been a botched one.
To spend a life buying and selling lies, dealing in cheap, shoddy
shams, or botching one's work, is demoralizing to every element of
nobility.
Beecher said he was never again quite the same man after reading
Ruskin. You are never again quite the same man after doing a poor job,
after botching your work. You cannot be just to yourself and unjust to
the man you are working for in the quality of your work, for, if you
slight your work, you not only strike a fatal blow at your efficiency,
but also smirch your character. If you would be a full man, a complete
man, a just man, you must be honest to the core in the quality of your
work.
No one can be really happy who does not believe in his own honesty. We
are so constituted that every departure from the right, from principle,
causes loss of self-respect, and makes us unhappy.
Every time we obey the inward law of doing right we hear an inward
approval, the amen of the soul, and every time we disobey it, a protest
or condemnation.
There is everything in holding a high ideal of your work, for whatever
model the mind holds, the life copies. Whatever your vocation, let
quality be your life-slogan.
A famous artist said he would never allow himself to look at an
inferior drawing or painting, to do anything that was low or
demoralizing, lest familiarity with it should taint his own ideal and
thus be communicated to his brush.
Many excuse poor, slipshod work on the plea of lack of time. But in
the ordinary situations of life there is plenty of time to do
everything as it ought to be done.
There is an indescribable superiority added to the character and fiber
of the man who always and everywhere puts quality into his work. There
is a sense of wholeness, of satisfaction, of happiness, in his life
which is never felt by the man who does not do his level best every
time. He is not haunted by the ghosts or tail ends of half-finished
tasks, of skipped problems; is not kept awake by a troubled conscience.
When we are trying with all our might to do our level best, our whole
nature improves. Everything looks down when we are going down hill.
Aspiration lifts the life; groveling lowers it.
Don't think you will never hear from a half-finished job, a neglected
or botched piece of work. It will never die. It will bob up farther
along in your career at the most unexpected moments, in the most
embarrassing situations. It will be sure to mortify you when you least
expect it. Like Banquo's ghost, it will arise at the most unexpected
moments to mar your happiness. A single broken thread in a web of
cloth is traced back to the girl who neglected her work in the factory,
and the amount of damage is deducted from her wages.
Thousands of people are held back all their lives and obliged to accept
inferior positions because they cannot entirely overcome the handicap
of slipshod habits formed early in life, habits of inaccuracy, of
slovenliness, of skipping difficult problems in school, of slurring
their work, shirking, or half doing it. "Oh, that's good enough,
what's the use of being so awfully particular?" has been the beginning
of a life-long handicap in many a career.
I was much impressed by this motto, which I saw recently in a great
establishment, "WHERE ONLY THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH." What a life-motto
this would be! How it would revolutionize civilization if everyone
were to adopt it and use it; to resolve that, whatever they did only
the best they could do would be good enough, would satisfy them!
Adopt this motto as yours. Hang it up in your bedroom, in your office
or place of business, put it into your pocket-book, weave it into the
texture of everything you do, and your life-work will be what every
one's should be--A MASTERPIECE.