The Cause of the Troubles

In order to come to grips at once with the question of time-expenditure in all its actuality, I must choose an individual case for examination. I can only deal with one case, and that case cannot be the average case, because there is no such case as the average case, just as there is no such man as the average man. Every man and every man's case is special.

To deal directly with the question of how time is actually spent, I must examine one individual case. I can only deal with one case, and it cannot be the average case. There is no average case, just as there is no average man. Every man and every man's case is unique.

But if I take the case of a Londoner who works in an office, whose office hours are from ten to six, and who spends fifty minutes morning and night in travelling between his house door and his office door, I shall have got as near to the average as facts permit. There are men who have to work longer for a living, but there are others who do not have to work so long.

But suppose I take the case of a Londoner who works in an office from ten to six. He spends fifty minutes traveling between his home and office each morning and each evening. His case comes as close to the average as the facts allow. Some men have to work longer to make a living, but others do not have to work as long.

Fortunately the financial side of existence does not interest us here; for our present purpose the clerk at a pound a week is exactly as well off as the millionaire in Carlton House-terrace.

Fortunately, we are not concerned with the financial side of life here. For our present purpose, a clerk earning a pound a week is just as well off as a millionaire in Carlton House-terrace.

Now the great and profound mistake which my typical man makes in regard to his day is a mistake of general attitude, a mistake which vitiates and weakens two-thirds of his energies and interests. In the majority of instances he does not precisely feel a passion for his business; at best he does not dislike it. He begins his business functions with reluctance, as late as he can, and he ends them with joy, as early as he can. And his engines while he is engaged in his business are seldom at their full "h.p." (I know that I shall be accused by angry readers of traducing the city worker; but I am pretty thoroughly acquainted with the City, and I stick to what I say.)

The great mistake my typical man makes about his day is a mistake in his general attitude. It undermines and weakens two-thirds of his energy and interests. In most cases, he feels no real passion for his work. At best, he does not dislike it. He starts work reluctantly, as late as he can, and finishes it gladly, as early as he can. And while he is working, his engines are seldom at full "horsepower." (I know angry readers will accuse me of slandering the city worker. But I know the City quite well, and I stand by what I say.)

Yet in spite of all this he persists in looking upon those hours from ten to six as "the day," to which the ten hours preceding them and the six hours following them are nothing but a prologue and epilogue. Such an attitude, unconscious though it be, of course kills his interest in the odd sixteen hours, with the result that, even if he does not waste them, he does not count them; he regards them simply as margin.

Yet despite all this, he still thinks of the hours from ten to six as "the day." He sees the ten hours before them and the six hours after them as nothing more than a prologue and epilogue. Though he is unaware of this attitude, it of course kills his interest in the other sixteen hours. As a result, even if he does not waste them, he does not count them. He sees them simply as a margin.

This general attitude is utterly illogical and unhealthy, since it formally gives the central prominence to a patch of time and a bunch of activities which the man's one idea is to "get through" and have "done with." If a man makes two-thirds of his existence subservient to one-third, for which admittedly he has no absolutely feverish zest, how can he hope to live fully and completely? He cannot.

This general attitude is utterly illogical and unhealthy. It puts a period of time and a set of activities at the center of a man's life. Yet his only thought is to "get through" them and have them "done with." Suppose a man makes two-thirds of his life serve the remaining third. He admits he has no burning enthusiasm for that third. How, then, can he hope to live fully and completely? He cannot.

If my typical man wishes to live fully and completely he must, in his mind, arrange a day within a day. And this inner day, a Chinese box in a larger Chinese box, must begin at 6 p.m. and end at 10 a.m. It is a day of sixteen hours; and during all these sixteen hours he has nothing whatever to do but cultivate his body and his soul and his fellow men. During those sixteen hours he is free; he is not a wage-earner; he is not preoccupied with monetary cares; he is just as good as a man with a private income. This must be his attitude. And his attitude is all important. His success in life (much more important than the amount of estate upon what his executors will have to pay estate duty) depends on it.

If my typical man wants to live fully and completely, he must imagine a day within a day. This inner day is like a Chinese box inside a larger Chinese box. It must begin at 6 p.m. and end at 10 a.m. It lasts sixteen hours. Throughout those sixteen hours, he has nothing to do but develop his body and soul and cultivate his relationships with others. During those sixteen hours, he is free. He is not a wage earner. He is not preoccupied with money worries. He is just as well off as a man with a private income. This must be his attitude. And his attitude is all important. His success in life depends on it. That success matters much more than the value of the estate on which his executors will have to pay estate tax.

What? You say that full energy given to those sixteen hours will lessen the value of the business eight? Not so. On the contrary, it will assuredly increase the value of the business eight. One of the chief things which my typical man has to learn is that the mental faculties are capable of a continuous hard activity; they do not tire like an arm or a leg. All they want is change—not rest, except in sleep.

What? You say that giving your full energy to those sixteen hours will make your eight business hours less valuable? Not so. On the contrary, it will surely make your eight business hours more valuable. One of the main things my typical man must learn is that the mind can work hard continuously. It does not tire like an arm or a leg. All the mind needs is a change of activity, not rest, except during sleep.

I shall now examine the typical man's current method of employing the sixteen hours that are entirely his, beginning with his uprising. I will merely indicate things which he does and which I think he ought not to do, postponing my suggestions for "planting" the times which I shall have cleared—as a settler clears spaces in a forest.

I will now examine how the typical man uses the sixteen hours that are entirely his, starting when he gets up. For now, I will simply point out what he does that I think he should not do. Later, I will suggest how to “plant” the time I have cleared, as a settler clears spaces in a forest.

In justice to him I must say that he wastes very little time before he leaves the house in the morning at 9.10. In too many houses he gets up at nine, breakfasts between 9.7 and 9.9 1/2, and then bolts. But immediately he bangs the front door his mental faculties, which are tireless, become idle. He walks to the station in a condition of mental coma. Arrived there, he usually has to wait for the train. On hundreds of suburban stations every morning you see men calmly strolling up and down platforms while railway companies unblushingly rob them of time, which is more than money. Hundreds of thousands of hours are thus lost every day simply because my typical man thinks so little of time that it has never occurred to him to take quite easy precautions against the risk of its loss.

To be fair, he wastes very little time before leaving the house at 9:10 in the morning. In too many homes, he gets up at nine, eats breakfast between 9:07 and 9:09:30, and then rushes out. But as soon as he slams the front door, his tireless mind becomes idle. He walks to the station in a mental coma. Once there, he usually has to wait for the train. Every morning, at hundreds of suburban stations, you see men calmly walking up and down the platforms. Meanwhile, railway companies shamelessly rob them of time, which is more than money. Hundreds of thousands of hours are lost this way every day. That happens simply because my typical man values time so little. It has never occurred to him to take simple precautions against the risk of losing it.

He has a solid coin of time to spend every day—call it a sovereign. He must get change for it, and in getting change he is content to lose heavily.

Every day, he has a solid coin of time to spend. Call it a sovereign. He must get change for it, and he is content to lose a lot in the exchange.

Supposing that in selling him a ticket the company said, "We will change you a sovereign, but we shall charge you three halfpence for doing so," what would my typical man exclaim? Yet that is the equivalent of what the company does when it robs him of five minutes twice a day.

Suppose the company sold him a ticket and said, "We will change a sovereign for you, but charge you three halfpence." What would my typical man say? Yet that is the equivalent of what the company does when it robs him of five minutes twice a day.

You say I am dealing with minutiae. I am. And later on I will justify myself.

You say I'm dealing with minor details. I am. And later I'll explain why.

Now will you kindly buy your paper and step into the train?

Now, would you please buy your newspaper and get on the train?