As an additional precaution against the possibility of any of the men idling or wasting their time, each one was given a time sheet on which he was required to account for every minute of the day. The form of these sheets varies slightly with different firms: that of Rushton & Co., was as shown on page 496.
One Monday morning Misery gave each one of the sub-foremen an envelope containing one of the firms’s memorandum forms. Crass opened his and found the following:
Crass
When you are on a job with men under you, check and initial their time sheets every night.
If they are called away and sent to some other job, or stood off, check and initial their time sheets as they leave your job.
Any man coming on your job during the day, you must take note of the exact time of his arrival, and see that his sheet is charged right.
Any man who is slow or lazy, or any man that you notice talking more than is necessary during working hours, you must report him to Mr Hunter.
We expect you and the other foremen to help us to carry out these rules, and any information given us about any man is treated in confidence.
Rushton & Co.
Note: This applies to all men of all trades who come on the jobs of which you are the foreman.
Every week the time sheets were scrutinized, and every now and then a man would be ‘had up on the carpet’ in the office before Rushton and Misery, and interrogated as to why he had taken fifteen hours to do ten hours’ work? In the event of the accused being unable to give a satisfactory explanation of his conduct he was usually sacked on the spot.
Misery was frequently called ‘up on the carpet’ himself.
If he made a mistake in figuring out a ‘job’, and gave in too high a tender for it, so that the firm did not get the work, Rushton grumbled. If the price was so low that there was not enough profit, Rushton was very unpleasant about it, and whenever it happened that there was not only no profit but an actual loss, Rushton created such a terrible disturbance that Misery was nearly frightened to death and used to get on his bicycle and rush off to the nearest ‘job’ and howl and bellow at the ‘chaps’ to get it done.
All the time the capabilities of the men – especially with regard to speed – were carefully watched and noted: and whenever there was a slackness of work and it was necessary to discharge some hands those that were slow or took too much pains were weeded out: this of course was known to the men and it had the desired effect upon them.
In justice to Rushton and Hunter, it must be remembered that there was a certain amount of excuse for all this driving and cheating, because they had to compete with all the other firms, who conducted their business in precisely the same way. It was not their fault, but the fault of the system.
A dozen firms tendered for every ‘job’, and of course the lowest tender usually obtained the work. Knowing this, they all cut the price down to the lowest possible figure and the workmen had to suffer.
The trouble was that there were too many ‘masters’. It would have been far better for the workmen if nine out of every ten of the employers had never started business. Then the others would have been able to get a better price for their work, and the men might have had better wages and conditions. The hands, however, made no such allowances or excuses as these for Misery and Rushton. They never thought or spoke of them except with hatred and curses. But whenever either of them came to the ‘job’ the ‘coddies’ cringed and grovelled before them, greeting them with disgustingly servile salutations, plentifully interspersed with the word ‘Sir’, greetings which were frequently either ignored altogether or answered with an inarticulate grunt. They said ‘Sir’ at nearly every second word: it made one feel sick to hear them because it was not courtesy: they were never courteous to each other, it was simply abject servility and self-contempt.
One of the results of all the frenzied hurrying was that every now and then there was an accident: somebody got hurt: and it was strange that accidents were not more frequent, considering the risks that were taken. When they happened to be working on ladders in busy streets they were not often allowed to have anyone to stand at the foot, and the consequence was that all sorts and conditions of people came into violent collision with the bottoms of the ladders. Small boys playing in the reckless manner characteristic of their years rushed up against them. Errand boys, absorbed in the perusal of penny instalments of the adventures of Claude Duval, and carrying large baskets of greengroceries, wandered into them. Blind men fell foul of them. Adventurous schoolboys climbed up them. People with large feet became entangled in them. Fat persons of both sexes who thought it unlucky to walk underneath, tried to negotiate the narrow strip of pavement between the foot of the ladder and the kerb, and in their passage knocked up against the ladder and sometimes fell into the road. Nursemaids wheeling peram-bulators – lolling over the handle, which they usually held with their left hands, the right holding a copy of Orange Blossoms or some halfpenny paper, and so interested in the story of the Marquis of Lymejuice – a young man of noble presence and fabulous wealth, with a drooping golden moustache and very long legs, who, notwithstanding the diabolical machinations of Lady Sibyl Malvoise, who loves him as well as a woman with a name like that is capable of loving anyone, is determined to wed none other than the scullery-maid at the Village Inn – inevitably bashed the perambulators into the ladders. Even when the girls were not reading they nearly always ran into the ladders, which seemed to possess a magnetic attraction for perambulators and go-carts of all kinds, whether propelled by nurses or mothers. Sometimes they would advance very cautiously towards the ladder: then, when they got very near, hesitate a little whether to go under or run the risk of falling into the street by essaying the narrow passage: then they would get very close up to the foot of the ladder, and dodge and dance about, and give the cart little pushes from side to side, until at last the magnetic influence exerted itself and the perambulator crashed into the ladder, perhaps at the very moment that the man at the top was stretching out to do some part of the work almost beyond his reach.
Once Harlow had just started painting some rainpipes from the top of a 40-ft ladder when one of several small boys who were playing in the street ran violently against the foot. Harlow was so startled that he dropped his brushes and clutched wildly at the ladder, which turned completely round and slid about six feet along the parapet into the angle of the wall, with Harlow hanging beneath by his hands. The paint-pot was hanging by a hook from one of the rungs, and the jerk scattered the brown paint it contained all over Harlow and all over the brickwork of the front of the house. He managed to descend safely by clasping his legs round the sides of the ladder and sliding down. When Misery came there was a row about what he called carelessness. And the next day Harlow had to wear his Sunday trousers to work.
On another occasion they were painting the outside of a house called ‘Gothic Lodge’. At one corner it had a tower surmounted by a spire or steeple, and this steeple terminated with an ornamental wrought-iron pinnacle which had to be painted. The ladder they had was not quite long enough, and besides that, as it had to stand in a sort of a courtyard at the base of the tower, it was impossible to slant it sufficiently: instead of lying along the roof of the steeple, it was sticking up in the air.
When Easton went up to paint the pinnacle he had to stand on almost the very top rung of the ladder, to be exact, the third from the top, and lean over to steady himself by holding on to the pinnacle with his left hand while he used the brush with his right. As it was only about twenty minutes’ work there were two men to hold the foot of the ladder.
It was cheaper to do it this way than to rig up a proper scaffold, which would have entailed perhaps two hours’ work for two or three men. Of course it was very dangerous, but that did not matter at all, because even if the man fell it would make no difference to the firm – all the men were insured and somehow or other, although they frequently had narrow escapes, they did not often come to grief.
On this occasion, just as Easton was finishing he felt the pinnacle that he was holding on to give way, and he got such a fright that his heart nearly stopped beating. He let go his hold and steadied himself on the ladder as well as he was able, and when he had descended three or four steps – into comparative safety – he remained clinging convulsively to the ladder and feeling so limp that he was unable to go down any further for several minutes. When he arrived at the bottom and the others noticed how white and trembling he was, he told them about the pinnacle being loose, and the ‘coddy’ coming along just then, they told him about it, and suggested that it should be repaired, as otherwise it might fall down and hurt someone: but the ‘coddy’ was afraid that if they reported it they might be blamed for breaking it, and the owner might expect the firm to put it right for nothing, so they decided to say nothing about it. The pinnacle is still on the apex of the steeple waiting for a sufficiently strong wind to blow it down on somebody’s head.
When the other men heard of Easton’s ‘narrow shave’, most of them said that it would have served him bloody well right if he had fallen and broken his neck: he should have refused to go up at all without a proper scaffold. That was what they would have done. If Misery or the coddy had ordered any of them to go up and paint the pinnacle off that ladder, they would have chucked their tools down and demanded their ha’pence!
That was what they said, but somehow or other it never happened that any of them ever ‘chucked their tools down’ at all, although such dangerous jobs were of very frequent occurrence.
The scamping business was not confined to houses or properties of an inferior class: it was the general rule. Large good-class houses, villas and mansions, the residences of wealthy people, were done in exactly the same way. Generally in such places costly and beautiful materials were spoilt in the using.
There was a large mansion where the interior woodwork – the doors, windows and staircase – had to be finished in white enamel. It was rather an old house and the woodwork needed rubbing down and filling up before being repainted, but of course there was not time for that, so they painted it without properly preparing it and when it was enamelled the rough, uneven surface of the wood looked horrible: but the owner appeared quite satisfied because it was nice and shiny. The dining-room of the same house was papered with a beautiful and expensive plush paper. The ground of this wall-hanging was made to imitate crimson watered silk, and it was covered with a raised pattern in plush of the same colour. The price marked on the back of this paper in the pattern book was eighteen shillings a roll. Slyme was paid sixpence a roll for hanging it: the room took ten rolls, so it cost nine pounds for the paper and five shillings to hang it! To fix such a paper as this properly the walls should first be done with a plain lining paper of the same colour as the ground of the wallpaper itself, because unless the paperhanger ‘lapps’ the joints – which should not be done – they are apt to open a little as the paper dries and to show the white wall underneath – Slyme suggested this lining to Misery, who would not entertain the idea for a moment – they had gone to quite enough expense as it was, stripping the old paper off!
So Slyme went ahead, and as he had to make his wages, he could not spend a great deal of time over it. Some of the joints were ‘lapped’ and some were butted, and two or three weeks after the owner of the house moved in, as the paper became more dry, the joints began to open and to show the white plaster of the wall, and then Owen had to go there with a small pot of crimson paint and a little brush, and touch out the white line.
While he was doing this he noticed and touched up a number of other faults; places where Slyme – in his haste to get the work done – had slobbered and smeared the face of the paper with fingermarks and paste.
The same ghastly mess was made of several other ‘jobs’ besides this one, and presently they adopted the plan of painting strips of colour on the wall in the places where the joints would come, so that if they opened the white wall would not show: but it was found that the paste on the back of the paper dragged the paint off the wall, and when the joints opened the white streaks showed all the same, so Misery abandoned all attempts to prevent joints showing, and if a customer complained, he sent someone to ‘touch it up’: but the lining paper was never used, unless the customer or the architect knew enough about the work to insist upon it.
In other parts of the same house the ceilings, the friezes, and the dados, were covered with ‘embossed’ or ‘relief’ papers. These hangings require very careful handling, for the raised parts are easily damaged; but the men who fixed them were not allowed to take the pains and time necessary to make good work: consequently in many places – especially at the joints – the pattern was flattened out and obliterated.
The ceiling of the drawing-room was done with a very thick high-relief paper that was made in sheets about two feet square. These squares were not very true in shape: they had evidently warped in drying after manufacture: to make them match anything like properly would need considerable time and care. But the men were not allowed to take the necessary time. The result was that when it was finished it presented a sort of ‘higgledy-piggledy’ appearance. But it didn’t matter: nothing seemed to matter except to get it done. One would think from the way the hands were driven and chivvied and hurried over the work that they were being paid five or six shillings an hour instead of as many pence.
‘Get it done!’ shouted Misery from morning till night. ‘For God’s sake get it done! Haven’t you finished yet? We’re losing money over this “job”! If you chaps don’t wake up and move a bit quicker, I shall see if I can’t get somebody else who will.’
These costly embossed decorations were usually finished in white; but instead of carefully coating them with specially prepared paint of patent distemper, which would need two or three coats, they slobbered one thick coat of common whitewash on to it with ordinary whitewash brushes.
This was a most economical way to get over it, because it made it unnecessary to stop up the joints beforehand – the whitewash filled up all the cracks: and it also filled up the hollow parts, the crevices and interstices of the ornament, destroying the sharp outlines of the beautiful designs and reducing the whole to a lumpy, formless mass. But that did not matter either, so long as they got it done.
The architect didn’t notice it, because he knew that the more Rushton & Co. made out of the ‘job’, the more he himself would make.
The man who had to pay for the work didn’t notice it; he had the fullest confidence in the architect.
At the risk of wearying the long-suffering reader, mention must be made of an affair that happened at this particular ‘job’.
The windows were all fitted with venetian blinds. The gentleman for whom all the work was being done had only just purchased the house, but he preferred roller blinds: he had had roller blinds in his former residence – which he had just sold – and as these roller blinds were about the right size, he decided to have them fitted to the windows of his new house: so he instructed Mr Rushton to have all the venetian blinds taken down and stored away up in the loft under the roof. Mr Rushton promised to have this done; but they were not all put away under the roof: he had four of them taken to his own place and fitted up in the conservatory. They were a little too large, so they had to be narrowed before they were fixed.
The sequel was rather interesting, for it happened that when the gentleman attempted to take the roller blinds from his old house, the person to whom he had sold it refused to allow them to be removed; claiming that when he bought the house, he bought the blinds also. There was a little dispute, but eventually it was settled that way and the gentleman decided that he would have the venetian blinds in his new house after all, and instructed the people who moved his furniture to take the venetians down again from under the roof, and refix them, and then, of course, it was discovered that four of the blinds were missing. Mr Rushton was sent for, and he said that he couldn’t understand it at all! The only possible explanation that h
e could think of was that some of his workmen must have stolen them! He would make inquiries, and endeavour to discover the culprits, but in any case, as this had happened while things were in his charge, if he did not succeed in recovering them, he would replace them.
As the blinds had been narrowed to fit the conservatory he had to have four new ones made.
The customer was of course quite satisfied, although very sorry for Mr Rushton. They had a little chat about it. Rushton told the gentleman that he would be astonished if he knew all the facts: the difficulties one has to contend with in dealing with working men: one has to watch them continually! directly one’s back is turned they leave off working! They come late in the morning, and go home before the proper time at night, and then unless one actually happens to catch them – they charge the full number of hours on their time sheets! Every now and then something would be missing, and of course Nobody knew anything about it. Sometimes one would go unexpectedly to a ‘job’ and find a lot of them drunk. Of course one tried to cope with these evils by means of rules and restrictions and organization, but it was very difficult – one could not be everywhere or have eyes at the back of one’s head. The gentleman said that he had some idea of what it was like: he had had something to do with the lower orders himself at one time and another, and he knew they needed a lot of watching.
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Page 53
