“What are we going to do now with the two or three minutes we saved?”
This was a question I could not answer, for I did not know why I had hurried. Perhaps because of the excess of ozone in the air, or possibly because every one else was hurrying.
“You see,” he continued, “we Germans never make the mistake of confounding hurry with efficiency. We hurry, too, when we must, or when we have a rational purpose. We know that great things cannot be accomplished in a hurry. We lay our foundations not only patiently, but thoroughly and cheerfully.
“You work like slaves who are eager to finish the job, as you call it. We cherish towards our job a sentiment of love and loyalty which we call ‘Pflichttreue,’ a word for which you have no equivalent, proving of course that you have not the thing itself.”
I translated the word as loyalty to duty.
“Yes, that may be correct, but it does not ring true. Pflichttreue has an ethical significance which your translation does not convey.
“I have noticed that your conductors shed their uniforms the instant they leave their trains, as if they were ashamed of their job. With us, any uniform, whether a railroad conductor’s or a general’s, is gloried in, and honored because of the work it represents.”
The Nebraskan thought us too democratic for uniforms, which is the reason we do not value them more than we do.
“It is not the uniform, it is our work in which we glory. A shoemaker with us is as proud of his job as the Emperor is of his. He is Emperor by the grace of God, because he believes it is a God-given task to which he must be faithful, and we once had a shoemaker who called himself with equal pride, ‘Shoemaker by the grace of God.’
“This pride spiritualizes the simplest and commonest work by making every man a conscious part of the state, and he works for its glory and power. It is a glory shared by his wife and family,” and the Herr Director pulled from his pocket a German newspaper. “Look at this funeral notice. The widow signs herself not only as the widow of a particular man, but as the widow of a man who did something of which she is still proud. While she remains a widow she will sign herself Amalia Henrietta Schmidt Koenigliche Hof Opern Obo Spieler’s Wittwe.”