One morning Bok’s employer happened to come to the office earlier than usual, to find the letters he had dictated late in the afternoon before lying on his desk ready to be signed.

“These are the letters I gave you late yesterday afternoon, are they not?” asked the employer.

“Yes, sir.”

“Must have started early this morning, didn’t you?^

“No, sir,” answered Bok.  “I wrote them out last evening before I left.”

“Like to get your notes written out before they get stale?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good idea,” said the employer.

“Yes, sir,” answered Bok, “and I think it is even a better idea to get a day’s work off before I take my apron off.”

“Well said,” answered the employer, and the following payday Bok found an increase in his weekly envelope.

It is only fair, however, to add here, parenthetically, that it is neither just nor considerate to a conscientious stenographer for an employer to delay his dictation until the end of the day’s work, when, merely by judicious management of his affairs and time, he can give his dictation directly after opening his morning mail.  There are two sides to every question; but sometimes the side of the stenographer is not kept in mind by the employer.

Bok found it a uniform rule among his fellow-workers to do exactly the opposite to his own idea; there was an astonishing unanimity in working by the clock; where the hour of closing was five o’clock the preparations began five minutes before, with the hat and overcoat over the back of the chair ready for the stroke of the hour.  This concert of action was curiously universal, no “overtime” was ever to be thought of, and, as occasionally happened when the work did go over the hour, it was not, to use the mildest term, done with care, neatness, or accuracy; it was, to use a current phrase, “slammed off.”  Every moment beyond five o’clock in which the worker was asked to do anything was by just so much an imposition on the part of the employer, and so far as it could be safely shown, this impression was gotten over to him.

There was an entire unwillingness to let business interfere with any anticipated pleasure or personal engagement.  The office was all right between nine and five; one had to be there to earn a living; but after five, it was not to be thought of for one moment.  The elevators which ran on the stroke of five were never large enough to hold the throng which besieged them.

The talk during lunch hour rarely, if ever, turned toward business, except as said before, when it dealt with underpaid services.  In the spring and summer it was invariably of baseball, and scores of young men knew the batting averages of the different players and the standing of the clubs with far greater accuracy than they knew the standing or the discounts of the customers of their employers.  In the winter the talk was all of dancing, boxing, or plays.