After we had left the shop Guido, with a touch of embarrassment,
explained to me that he was hardly in a position yet to offer me a
post in his business. He had ordered a desk to be put in his room for
me in the hope that I might come and keep him company sometimes if I
felt so inclined. He didn’t want to bind me to anything, and he must be
free too. If his business went well he intended to ask me to become a
partner in it.
When he talked about his business Guido’s handsome face became very
serious. He appeared to have already thought out all the transactions
he proposed to engage in. He took a long view, right over my head, and
I was so much impressed by his seriousness of purpose that I came to
see things with his eyes, the financial operations, that is to say,
which were to make his fortune. He was content neither to walk in the
path so successfully trodden by our father-in-law, nor in the humble
path of “safety first” pursued by Olivi. According to him they were
quite out of date in their methods. One must strike out quite a new
path, and he wanted me to be connected with him because he thought the
old men had not had time to ruin me yet.
I quite agreed with him. I felt I had scored my first commercial
success, and I again blushed with pleasure. It was really out of
gratitude for his good opinion of me that I went on working for him for
two years with varying degrees of energy, and with no other reward than
the glory of a desk in the manager’s room. This was the longest time I
had ever spent up to now at the same occupation. But I cannot boast of
it, because all my energy produced no results either for Guido or me,
and in business, as everyone knows, you can only judge by results.
I preserved my faith in the undertaking for about three months, just
time enough for getting it started. I knew it would devolve on me to
arrange such details as the correspondence and the accounts, as well
as keeping an eye on the business generally. But Guido kept a great
ascendancy over me; in fact so much so that I was nearly ruined by him,
and was only saved by my lucky star. He had only to beckon, for me to
rush to him at once. I still wonder at it even now, after having had
time to think it over for the greater part of my life.
I have decided to write about those two years, because my devotion
to him seems to me a clear symptom of disease. What reason had I for
attaching myself to him in order to learn big business, and then for
remaining attached to him in order to teach him the details? What
reason had I for being so satisfied with my position just because
I thought my great friendship for Guido showed that I did not care
about Ada? Who obliged me to do this? Was not our mutual indifference
sufficiently demonstrated by the existence of the children we both
produced so regularly? I did not dislike Guido, but he was certainly
not the friend I should have chosen. I saw his faults so plainly that
I was irritated by his way of thinking, even when I was not put off by
some act of weakness on his part. I sacrificed my freedom to him for
years and allowed him to place me in the most odious position, simply
in order that I might help him. It was either a real manifestation of
disease or of great benevolence, both of which qualities are closely
related to each other.
This remained true, even though with time we developed a strong
affection, as often happens between people who see each other every
day. My feeling for him was very strong indeed. When he disappeared I
went on missing him for a very long time: in fact my whole life seemed
empty, so great a part of it having been usurped by him and his affairs.
I can’t help smiling when I remember what a muddle we made of our
first transaction, the buying of furniture. We had saddled ourselves
with the furniture, but could not make up our minds where to have the
office. There was a difference of opinion between Guido and me about
the choice of an office, which considerably retarded our getting one.
In the case of my father-in-law and Olivi, I had seen how important it
was to have your warehouse near to the office if you were to keep it
under proper supervision. Guido protested with a sort of disgust:
“Those offices down in the town stink of fish and skins!”
He asserted that it would be quite easy for him to keep control of the
warehouse from a distance, but meanwhile he delayed about taking one.
One fine day the firm from which he had bought the furniture informed
him that if he did not fetch it away it would be thrown into the
street, whereupon he dashed off to take an office--the best that had
been offered him--with no warehouse near it, and in the very middle of
the town. And so it came about that we never had a warehouse at all.
The office consisted of two very large, well-lit rooms and a small room
without windows. A notice was pinned on the door of the uninhabitable
room with “Accountant’s Office” inscribed on it in large letters. One
of the other doors bore the inscription “Counting-house,” and the
third rejoiced in the very English appellation of “Private.” Guido had
studied business in England too and had brought back several useful
ideas. The “Counting-house” had of course a magnificent iron safe
and the customary grid. Our room, marked “Private,” was a luxurious
apartment upholstered in brown velvet and furnished with two desks, a
divan and several very comfortable arm-chairs.
Next came the purchase of books and various smaller articles of
furniture. In this department my position as director was undisputed. I
had only to give an order and the things arrived. I would really have
preferred a rather less implicit obedience, but it was my job to decide
exactly what was necessary in an office. It was then that I began to
discover the fundamental difference between Guido and myself. All the
knowledge I had acquired was used by me for talking, and by him for
action. When he had acquired all the information I could give him he
would buy. It is true that he sometimes decided to sit still and do
nothing at all--neither buy nor sell--but even this impressed me as
the act of someone who is very sure of himself. I should have been
much more troubled by doubts, even if it had been a question of doing
nothing.
I was very cautious about the purchases I made. I hurried off to Olivi
to take the measurements of the duplicating-machine and account-books.
Young Olivi showed me how to open the accounts and explained to me
about book-keeping with double entries, all of which is easy enough
to learn, but rather difficult to remember. When the weighing-machine
arrived he promised he would explain this to me as well.
We were not yet very clear as to what we were going to do in the
office (for I now know that Guido was equally ignorant) and we had
great discussions about the proper conduct of the business. I remember
we spent several days in discussing where we should put the other
employees and whether we really needed them at all. Guido proposed
putting as many as possible in the room labelled “Counting-house.” But
Luciano, the office-boy, who was for the moment our only employee, said
that only those who were actually connected with the Counting-house
ought to be in that room. It was hard to reconcile ourselves to taking
lessons from the office-boy! I had an inspiration: “I seem to remember
that in England they pay everything by cheque.”