I have been trying to keep cool ever since. It is a difficult feat for some people. Some time afterwards I ventured to suggest promotion for myself, to the same deputy. He said, “Wesblock, I expected things from you, and have been disappointed. You have not made good.”
“Really, Mr. Deputy,” I said, “you surprise me. I never even suspected that I was to make good. At every pot hole into which I put my head, I receive blows, if I am not thrown out bodily. Superior officers infest every pot hole I can find. You have told me to go when I am told, and to come when I am called, and to keep cool. I have done these things; as you say that I have not made good, I will bid you good-morning.” And I left him to think about my position.
My thinking was fruitful in that I changed my tactics. I inspected pot holes without consideration for any one but myself. I inspected them as it seemed to me they should be inspected, and reported only to the highest pot hole officer within reach, without going through Chief Inspector, Assistant-Superintendent, or Superintendent. These tactics gave me much trouble at first, but they worked out well in the end. In trying to serve four or five superior officers, I had failed to give satisfaction to any one. In fact they seemed to have conspired to belittle me with the Deputy, possibly in the fear that I might get preferment. Over all my superior officers was the High Chief Pot Hole Expert; a small, hook-nosed individual, who, although of an unpleasant and hard disposition, was honest, just and far-seeing. He did not take to me very kindly at first, but by a smiling and ever-ready willingness on my part, and with much patience and perseverance, I forced him at last to take consideration of me and my work.
My Third Minister, having been indiscreet in several directions, was forced to retire to private life. Exactly what was his indiscretion no one seemed to know. Of course, all kinds of tales, most of them quite untrue, were told about the matter. The fact remains that he retired suddenly and my Fourth Minister took his place.
The Fourth Minister was full of guile; smooth and wily in all his ways. A quiet man of few words, biding his time like a fat spider, with a good retentive web in which he had perfect confidence. You have no doubt observed such spiders. They are never in a wild rush when a fly gets into their meshes. They know that any fly that falls into their web is surely caught, so they proceed very quietly and leisurely, without excitement, towards the business of tying up Mr. Fly, and extracting his vital fluid.
My Fourth Minister was the instrument of Providence in my release from pot holes.
He and I had never met, but of course I knew him by sight. One Government holiday, when the buildings were deserted, I came to my office for one purpose or another. Mr. “The Fourth” was by Fate moved similarly. We met in the hall.
“Good morning, Mr. Minister,” I said, touching my hat respectfully.
“Oh, good morning, Mr. Ah——, Mr. Ah——” He stumbled over my name, of which he had no idea. “Coming to see me, I suppose? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m very busy this morning. If you will write me a letter in your matter, I will give it my attention.”
I appreciated in a second the mistake he had made. Never dreaming that I was only one of his employees, he had jumped to the conclusion that I was some one wanting something, who had lain in wait for him. I thanked him profusely, shook his hand once more, and left him promising to write the letter about the matter, which was unknown to both of us.