Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕

encouraged by the extraordinary stupidity and apathy of the people

would proceed to lay upon them even greater burdens, until at last,

goaded by suffering, and not having sufficient intelligence to

understand any other remedy, these miserable wretches would turn upon

their oppressors and drown both them and their System in a sea of

blood.

Besides the work at the Kiosk, towards the end of March things

gradually began to improve in other directions. Several firms began

to take on a few hands. Several large empty houses that were relet

had to be renovated for their new tenants, and there was a fair amount

of inside work arising out of the annual spring-cleaning in other

houses. There was not enough work to keep everyone employed, and most

of those who were taken on as a rule only managed to make a few hours

a week, but still it was better than absolute idleness, and there also

began to be talk of several large outside jobs that were to be done as

soon as the weather was settled.

This bad weather, by the way, was a sort of boon to the defenders of

the present system, who were hard-up for sensible arguments to explain

the cause of poverty. One of the principal causes was, of course, the

weather, which was keeping everything back. There was not the

slightest doubt that if only the weather would allow there would

always be plenty of work, and poverty would be abolished.

Rushton & Co. had a fair share of what work there was, and Crass,

Sawkins, Slyme and Owen were kept employed pretty regularly, although

they did not start until half past eight and left off at four. At

different houses in various parts of the town they had ceilings to

wash off and distemper, to strip the old paper from the walls, and to

repaint and paper the rooms, and sometimes there were the venetian

blinds to repair and repaint. Occasionally a few extra hands were

taken on for a few days, and discharged again as soon as the job they

were taken on to do was finished.

The defenders of the existing system may possibly believe that the

knowledge that they would be discharged directly the job was done was

a very good incentive to industry, that they would naturally under

these circumstances do their best to get the work done as quickly as

possible. But then it must be remembered that most of the defenders

of the existing system are so constituted, that they can believe

anything provided it is not true and sufficiently silly.

All the same, it was a fact that the workmen did do their very best to

get over this work in the shortest possible time, because although

they knew that to do so was contrary to their own interests, they also

knew that it would be very much more contrary to their interests not

to do so. Their only chance of being kept on if other work came in

was to tear into it for all they were worth. Consequently, most of

the work was rushed and botched and slobbered over in about half the

time that it would have taken to do it properly. Rooms for which the

customers paid to have three coats of paint were scamped with one or

two. What Misery did not know about scamping and faking the work, the

men suggested to and showed him in the hope of currying favour with

him in order that they might get the preference over others and be

sent for when the next job came in. This is the principal incentive

provided by the present system, the incentive to cheat. These fellows

cheated the customers of their money. They cheated themselves and

their fellow workmen of work, and their children of bread, but it was

all for a good cause - to make profit for their master.

Harlow and Slyme did one job - a room that Rushton & Co. had

contracted to paint three coats. It was finished with two and the men

cleared away their paints. The next day, when Slyme wept there to

paper the room, the lady of the house said that the painting was not

yet finished - it was to have another coat. Slyme assured her that it

had already had three, but, as the lady insisted, Slyme went to the

shop and sought out Misery. Harlow had been stood off, as there was

not another job in just then, but fortunately he happened to be

standing in the street outside the shop, so they called him and then

the three of them went round to the job and swore that the room had

had three coats. The lady protested that it was not so. She had

watched the progress of the work. Besides, it was impossible; they

had only been there three days. The first day they had not put any

paint on at all; they had done the ceiling and stripped the walls; the

painting was not started till the second day. How then could it have

had three coats? Misery explained the mystery: he said that for first

coating they had an extra special very fast-drying paint - paint that

dried so quickly that they were able to give the work two coats in one

day. For instance, one man did the window, the other the door: when

these were finished both men did the skirting; by the time the

skirting was finished the door and window were dry enough to second

coat; and then, on the following day - the finishing coat!

Of course, this extra special quick-drying paint was very expensive,

but the firm did not mind that. They knew that most of their

customers wished to have their work finished as quickly as possible,

and their study was to give satisfaction to the customers. This

explanation satisfied the lady - a poverty-stricken widow making a

precarious living by taking in lodgers - who was the more easily

deceived because she regarded Misery as a very holy man, having seen

him preaching in the street on many occasions.

There was another job at another boarding-house that Owen and Easton

did - two rooms which had to be painted three coats of white paint and

one of enamel, making four coats altogether. That was what the firm

had contracted to do. As the old paint in these rooms was of a rather

dark shade it was absolutely necessary to give the work three coats

before enamelling it. Misery wanted them to let it go with two, but

Owen pointed out that if they did so it would be such a ghastly mess

that it would never pass. After thinking the matter over for a few

minutes, Misery told them to go on with the third coat of paint. Then

he went downstairs and asked to see the lady of the house. He

explained to her that, in consequence of the old paint being so dark,

he found that it would be necessary, in order to make a good job of

it, to give the work four coats before enamelling it. Of course, they

had agreed for only three, but as they always made a point of doing

their work in a first-class manner rather than not make a good job,

they would give it the extra coat for nothing, but he was sure she

would not wish them to do that. The lady said that she did not want

them to work for nothing, and she wanted it done properly. If it were

necessary to give it an extra coat, they must do so and she would pay

for it. How much would it be? Misery told her. The lady was

satisfied, and Misery was in the seventh heaven. Then he went

upstairs again and warned Owen and Easton to be sure to say, if they

were asked, that the work had had four coats.

It would not be reasonable to blame Misery or Rushton for not wishing

to do good, honest work - there was no incentive. When they secured a

contract, if they had thought first of making the very best possible

job of it, they would not have made so much profit. The incentive was

not to do the work as well as possible, but to do as little as

possible. The incentive was not to make good work, but to make good

profit.

The same rule applied to the workers. They could not justly be blamed

for not doing good work - there was no incentive. To do good work

requires time and pains. Most of them would have liked to take time

and pains, because all those who are capable of doing good work find

pleasure and happiness in doing it, and have pride in it when done:

but there was no incentive, unless the certainty of getting the sack

could be called an incentive, for it was a moral certainty that any

man who was caught taking time and pains with his work would be

promptly presented with the order of the boot. But there was plenty

of incentive to hurry and scamp and slobber and botch.

There was another job at a lodging-house - two rooms to be painted and

papered. The landlord paid for the work, but the tenant had the

privilege of choosing the paper. She could have any pattern she liked

so long as the cost did not exceed one shilling per roll, Rushton’s

estimate being for paper of that price. Misery sent her several

patterns of sixpenny papers, marked at a shilling, to choose from, but

she did not fancy any of them, and said that she would come to the

shop to make her selection. So Hunter tore round to the shop in a

great hurry to get there before her. In his haste to dismount, he

fell off his bicycle into the muddy road, and nearly smashed the

plate-glass window with the handlebar of the machine as he placed it

against the shop front before going in.

Without waiting to clean the mud off his clothes, he ordered Budd, the

pimply-faced shopman, to get out rolls of all the sixpenny papers they

had, and then they both set to work and altered the price marked upon

them from sixpence to a shilling. Then they got out a number of

shilling papers and altered the price marked upon them, changing it

from a shilling to one and six.

When the unfortunate woman arrived, Misery was waiting for her with a

benign smile upon his long visage. He showed her all the sixpenny

ones, but she did not like any of them, so after a while Nimrod

suggested that perhaps she would like a paper of a little better

quality, and she could pay the trifling difference out of her own

pocket. Then he showed her the shilling papers that he had marked up

to one and sixpence, and eventually the lady selected one of these and

paid the extra sixpence per roll herself, as Nimrod suggested. There

were fifteen rolls of paper altogether - seven for one room and eight

for the other - so that in addition to the ordinary profit on the sale

of the paper - about two hundred and seventy-five per cent. - the firm

made seven and sixpence on this transaction. They might have done

better out of the job itself if Slyme had not been hanging the paper

piecework, for, the two rooms being of the same pattern, he could

easily have managed to do them with fourteen rolls; in fact, that was

all he did use, but he cut up and partly destroyed the one that was

over so that he could charge for hanging it.

Owen was working there at the same time,