The New Chauffeur
(An Impossible Dialogue)
Employer. And now as to wages. What do you want?
Chauffeur. Forty pounds a year and all found.
E. And what do you expect to do for that?
C. To keep the car in good order and drive you out in it.
E. Yes. You must excuse me asking so much, but you see I don’t know you at all. What kind of a temper have you?
C. Very good.
E. Yes, of course. But I mean what kind of temper have you when you are told suddenly, late on a wet night, to go to the station?
C. Very good.
E. Always?
C. Certainly.
E. Well, I want you to be quite sure. Is your temper so perfect that if I were to offer you another £5 a year to secure this point about unexpected runs in bad weather and so forth, it would make no difference?
C. I think it might make a difference.
E. And you would stand by the bargain? Never for a moment go back on it?
C. No.
E. Then we will say £45. And one other point. There are some chauffeurs so poor spirited that on an open road with no danger they will go at only, say, twelve miles an hour. You are not like that, are you?
C. Certainly not.
E. You hate going slow?
C. Yes.
E. Ah, then, that settles it, for a chauffeur who objects to go slow is no good to me. You see, I often want to go slow: in fact, always when it is very dusty and we are near cottage gardens.
C. Yes; but, of course, if you wished it——
E. You said you hated it. Now, an unwilling servant is the last thing I require.
C. But——
E. You mean that you could get over your dislike and become willing to meet my wishes?
C. Yes.
E. But willingness must be more spontaneous than that. Suppose we were to fix it up now absolutely, would you continue in that frame? You would always be willing?
C. Always.
E. Then shall we say another £5 a year? That makes £50.
C. Thank you very much.
E. Oh, no, not at all. It’s a commercial transaction. I want what you are prepared to sell. There is one other point. What kind of an expression do you wear when you are told by your employer to take out for a drive certain of his poorer friends who cannot afford more than a small tip, if any?
C. I am perfectly content.
E. Perfectly?
C. Well, of course, one prefers to drive one’s own employer.
E. Ah!—but supposing I wished all your passengers to be of equal importance and interest to you? There is no pleasure in a drive if the driver is sullen. Have you ever thought of that?
C. Never.
E. You see it now?
C. Yes, I see it now.
E. And if I were to add another £5 it would guarantee the smile?
C. Absolutely.
E. Very well, then, that makes it £55. We will leave it at that. You will begin on Monday.