"Did Mr. Barlow ever speak to you about knowing your place?"
"Why, no," I said.
"I'll tell you why, boy. You see, he knows he's boss, and everybody else knows it, and he knows that if he is to get the best out of his people he has got to get them to work with him and not for him. The way you treated Larsen will tend to make him merely work for you and not for the interests of the business. He will simply use you as a makeshift until he can get something else. If you want to get the very best out of the people who work for you, you have got to take a real interest in them, and treat them with the same courtesy that you want to be treated with."
I was just going to tell her that I couldn't be the boss there unless I made them keep their place, but she held up her hand and said:
"Wait a minute, boy. I'm a year younger than you, but I'm older than you in many respects. You are only a big boy and you want some one to look after you." She blushed a little as she said this. "You are impetuous. You say things which you don't mean. You speak so sharply at times that people misunderstand your naturally kind disposition and think that you are fault-finding. And then you are really so conceited that you hate to admit you are wrong, with the result that you leave people with a wrong impression of you. Do you remember that saying about the man who conquers himself being greater than he who masters a city? You should learn to think a little more carefully about what you say before you say it. Remember that you can say something sharp to the help and then forget it the next minute; but they won't forget it. They will think it over and it will rankle and they will feel spiteful toward you, and they'll do something to 'get even' with you."
I hated to admit it, but I had got a hunch that Betty was very nearly right. I decided I would try to control my tongue a little more, and would remember that the people who worked for me would do better work for me if they liked and respected me.
The next morning, I went around with Larsen, as I had promised him, to see Jim Simpson, and found that he had gone. He had left a note for me saying that he found he had an opportunity to get away and that he would write me his address in a few days.
Larsen saw me twisting his note in my fingers while I was thinking about it there, and he came over and said:
"Can I see that note, Boss?"
I passed it to him. He read it, shook his head, and said: