First he made the engines, which mostly came completely finished, but there were still always improvements to be added. And then he got the structure of the bottom half, and placed it in just right. This was a hefty task since the structure was so big. Of ten, he just took it half at a time.
After that, he put in important parts, such as the steering wheel, seats, and window systems. And then he put the roof on top, and put in the windows. Next were the bumpers, the last part of the design, but not the last step. He also put the beautiful blue coating of paint, which made the car sparkle like diamond.
Grotart Polsh stepped back to admire his work. This was one day’s work, what he did every day. Every day, he would make a brand new car. It was his passion, not just his job. He loved to do it. He loved to run his hands over the structure as he worked on making it better for his customer. And he knew that he would be doing it for the rest of his life, even when he grew old, to which he was getting close; he was 42 years old at that time.
He drove home in his own car. When his house came, he veered into the driveway, and walked up the pavement to their front door. Inside, his wife asked what he got done that day.
“Finished another car,” replied Grotart, as usual.
He helped his wife, Blash, with dinner. When they were finished, they called the children to sit down at the table and eat.
After dinner, they went to the living room and flipped on the TV. On came the only channel they ever watched—the news. But it wasn’t on yet, and their children were fidgeting.
“We want to go to the park,” they moaned. They were 7 and 10 years old. The park was, of course, the playground that they always went to, but not on weekdays. Despite this, the children had assumed that they go at random intervals.
Finally, the news hour came on.
“Technology always seems to be at its peak, but it never is, and this is a perfect example.
“Cars have always been handcrafted. It’s perfectly normal. But now, factories are beginning to come into play. This may mean a lot to the handcrafters; many of them will lose business. Sarah, here, will show us the kinds of factories that will likely throw car smiths out of business. Sarah:”
“Thank you, Dave. I am standing in front of the seat adjusters here. As you can see...”
Grotart and Blash looked at each other, Grotart horrified by the possibility. Blash shook her head.
“They can’t possibly replace handcrafted cars.”
Grotart nodded, hoping beyond hope that she was correct.
*
The next day, Grotart went to his job as usual. He headed to the M-station (M stood for Materials) and got the engine, and then to his own workstation to get started. He was just beginning to work on the engine when his boss came in, apparently having made a hard decision. Indeed...
“Grotart, you know about the factories, right?”
“Yes,” answered Grotart, looking up at his boss.
“You’ve heard that they might replace our company, right?” asked the boss, clearly just making things take a little longer to seem more official.
“Yes,” answered Grotart again. “But surely they won’t succeed?”
“They’ve already succeeded in scaring the (bleep) out of me, so I really wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Wait—what? They’ve succeeded in—have you lowered...”
“Yes, I have lowered the prices of our cars, in order to keep up with their competition.”
“What? NO! How much will you be paying me now?”
“Half as much as before.”
“That’s a lot!”
“So is the competition.”
“Yes, the competition is high, assuming it exists!”
“Well, we are assuming it exists, you are correct about that.”
“But why?” Grotart just couldn’t understand.
“Well, if we lower our prices ahead of time, they’ll know us for the prices we have, not the prices we had before we lowered them.”
Grotart just couldn’t handle this. He certainly complained to the boss many times, but it was to no avail. His boss just didn’t understand.
But he probably should have paid attention to the facts a little more, because he didn’t even get to working on the engine.
When he came home, he didn’t give his usual report.
“Hello, what have you done today?”
“The wages have been chopped in half! How can the factories push us around like that? There’s got to be a law against that!”
“What? Did you finish a car?”
Grotart stopped in horror. He shook his head, realizing that this had been a big mistake. He wasn’t going to get any wages for today.
“You’ve got to start making cars faster, not slower! If they’re not paying you as much, you don’t just stop doing your job. That just means you get even less than you would have had you done your work!”
Grotart listened, and knew that she was correct.
The children wanted to go to the park again, and Grotart could have sworn that they were even fustier than yesterday.
“Yesterday we talked about how factories are likely to take over the car market. Today, the majority of handcrafted car companies have cut their prices. Sarah has gone to one of the car companies to ask why. Sarah:”
“This person manages the majority of this company’s decision, including the decision to make their cars cheaper. Why have you done this?” Sarah asked Grotart’s boss, putting the microphone up to his mouth.
“Well, even though the factories haven’t gotten full business yet, we think that by lowering our prices, we can manage a better company, and have a better reputation when the factories start up.”
“Thank you,” said Sarah, as the man walked off. “Well, you heard him. They believe that it’s better for business to chop the prices.”
“In other news...”
Grotart flipped off the TV. “There wasn’t anything about the quality of our cars in comparison with the expected quality of factory cars.”
“That’s the problem these days,” said Blash. “People prioritize quantity, not quality.”
The next day Grotart got the engine set up just right quicker than usual. He worked on the structure of the car, added the bumpers, and finally painted it. He made sure that it was incredibly well shined, so that the low price would seem just plain old crazy. Most people would likely prefer these cars.
And his shift was only about half done. He had done his fastest car yet. So, instead of stopping, as he would normally do, he had to continue on with another car. He went to the M-station to get his engine, and got started. The engine was done, and he started working on the position of the steering wheel, seats, pedals, etc. When he finished that, he put on the bumpers. And all of the sudden, he realized that his shift was over. He would have to finish this car the next day.
Instead of heading home, as he would usually have done, he decided to go and talk to his boss. So he went to the boss’s room. What he was planning on doing was telling his boss what progress he has made. He would tell the boss that he owed him double wages, because he had done double the normal amount of work.
“I’ve finished one car and all I have to do is paint the other. Do you have any comment about that?” asked Grotart.
Grotart’s boss looked up, and nodded. “I’m impressed.”
“So, what will my payment be?”
“Oh, you were just doing that so you could get the same wage as you used to get?”
“Yes, that is why I did two cars.”
“Well, we recently decided to cut the price in half again, so that just means that you’ll get the same wages as you would have had you done one car yesterday. Don’t take that to mean that I’m not impressed. It’s just that we need to keep up with our competition.”
“NO!” cried Grotart.
That day, Grotart came home, and just burst out, “THE WAGES HAVE BEEN CHOPPED IN HALF AGAIN!” Blash came into the room and settled him down, and they all got down to dinner. Afterward, they watched the news, during which much of the thinking came down to him. Grotart realized that his business was losing money on this business, and his family was beginning to get more demanding. His children were desperately asking to go to the park. But it was Wednesday, and they would be able to go to the park on Saturday.
The next day, Grotart once again got to work as fast as he could. He made good progress; he finished yesterday’s car, painting a beautiful gloss over it that made it sparkle like a mirror being viewed through colored glass. And then he worked on his second car of the day. He finished it with a layer of crystal green paint over it. And he worked on yet another car, and when he had to do the painting, he looked up at the clock. It was ten minutes before his shift was over. He would be able to finish 3 cars that day!
He went to his boss to explain his progress, feeling the sweat trickle down his face. What if the wages had gone down again? He might have to quit this job. But it wasn’t just his job; it was his passion! How could he possibly drop it? Surely others could understand that! Didn’t everyone have a passion, something that they can’t bear to lose, no matter what happens?
“Well, I’ve finished three cars today,” he said when he reached the boss.
The boss was walking around, trying to handle several things at one time. “Yes, Pincat, so you get three times the normal wages,” he said, holding his hands to his head as he picked up a pile of papers from his desk.
“It’s Grotart.”
“Grotart and Pincat, ok, I’ll give the two of you three times your normal wage.”
Pincat was a very slow working person, so Grotart’s boss was obviously trying to multitask a little too much.
“So, have the prices been cut again?”
“No, and we’re losing business despite that.”
“I’m not surprised,” muttered Grotart, still not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to support his family in this situation.
When he came home that day, he wasn’t that angry, but he was still frustrated that the prices had ever been cut at all.
“So the prices haven’t been cut again?” asked Blash.
“No,” answered Grotart.
“It’ll happen; we’re in trouble, and we’ve got to face it.”
Blash was right, of course. But they still didn’t know the most important piece of information.
When?
It was finally Friday, and Grotart went to work as usual. He noticed something strange going on.
The boss went into one office with a load of papers, and came out without them. He went into his office, and came out with a bunch of papers gripped in his hands. He entered another office, and came out without the papers.
Grotart caught a glimpse of the papers the next set of papers. On the top was a sheet titled Resignation Forms. “Not doing well on this business is he?” thought Grotart.
He attempted to talk to the boss. The boss just continued on to the next office. When he came back out, Grotart managed to say, “What’s up?” before his boss went into his own office again.
Grotart’s boss stopped. He turned around, and uttered one simple word. “Bankruptcy.”
“No,” said Grotart, as his boss walked off.
It couldn’t be true, not now! How could he possibly survive? “No!” he cried. He had a wife and children to feed. What would become of him?
And the word continued echoing in his head. Bankruptcy, bankruptcy, bankruptcy... The boss was bankrupt. The factories had triumphed.
Later on, he was filling out the resignation forms. When he was finished, he would go home and tell his family the bad news.
He stopped on his way home to get the mail. There were many bills cluttered in the mailbox. He entered the house with the bills in his hand.
He didn’t say anything when he went through the front door. But Blash guessed what the news was.
“Has your company died?”
And it all sucked into Grotart’s mind.
“How will we pay these bills?” he asked, holding up the letters clutched in his hand.
“I don’t know; I guess I’ll have to get a job, unless you’re willing to get a new job.”
“No! You know perfectly well how important this occupation is to me! I will not separate myself from this job! I won’t allow it! I won’t!”
But how to feed four mouths?
“How will we raise the children? How can we afford to keep this house? How will we support ourselves?”
And what about the stuff life’s all about?
“And our children won’t be able to do the fun stuff they’re always begging to do! We won’t even be able to afford to get them a decent education now!”
And these two thoughts conflicted in his mind. His passion or his family? His passion or his family?
Jacob left the factories. He worked in a car factory, where he just had to make sure everything operated well. He even got good wages for it; the car factories were now in control of the car marketing, and they priced their cars very heftily.
He decided to go out to eat that day. He went to his favorite restaurant and ordered his favorite food. Then he chose a table at which to sit down, and waited for his food to come. When it came, he got up and received the food, and brought it back to his table.
While he was eating, he noticed someone sitting nearby. This person was a man, with the sight of a very poor person. He had a beard stretching down to the table, touching his tray. His face was simply covered in lines, not of an old man, but of someone who worry’s a lot. Someone who is financially challenged, or in some other way deprived. Someone who couldn’t stop worrying about his life, what would happen to himself, etc.
Jacob moved over to talk to the man. He was gobbling the food down his throat like crazy, making sure he hadn’t missed even a morsel of food. He asked the man what was up. The man didn’t even look up; he just continued eating his food as if there were no one nearby, perhaps wishing there weren’t anybody around.
“What’s your occupation,” Jacob asked. He felt it was rude to ask, “Do you have an occupation?” If this man did have an occupation, it sure didn’t look like this occupation was doing this man any good.
The man looked up, and they made a deep eye contact, so that virtually nothing else was visible. Jacob saw the sadness etched on this man’s face. Clearly, the man could tell Jacob’s realization, because he only whispered, “Years ago.”
Jacob couldn’t help feeling sorry, and had to say something, but he couldn’t think of what. Finally, he decided to talk about his own occupation, just for sake of topic.
“I work at the car factory down that way,” he started, but then the man suddenly stood up, having cleaned his plate.
He threw his plate in the trash, making sure not to make the least amount of eye contact with Jacob.
It took Jacob some time to realize what this could mean. Maybe, perhaps, this man had handcrafted cars. He remembered that, years ago, the factories put the car smiths out of business. Clearly, this man had had much more passion in his job than he himself had in the car factories.
A month later, Jacob was at an intersection of the highway, and he noticed the man he had met earlier in that restaurant. He was sporting a rather cruddy car. He was holding up a board, like they always do, which said: “buy this car I made myself.”
Jacob noticed that his face was very saddened. He really couldn’t drop his old job. Jacob quickly went to the nearest parking lot, parked his own car, and went back to where the man was walking back and forth.
“You really can’t drop this job, can you?” he asked.
The man looked at him, with a faint hint of recognition.
Jacob took out a checkbook, and wrote it up for $1,000. He gave it to the man.
The man took it into his hand and looked up at Jacob.
Again, they made that eye contact.
But then the man shook his head, handing the check back. “It’s all right. You can take it,” Jacob said.
The man still shook his head.
“Go to that bank over there for a withdrawal,” said Jacob, pointing. “It’s all right.”
The man looked at him with his deep, sad eyes.
Jacob noticed two children in the alley. When they poked their heads out, their eyes showed shock that Jacob was treating this man like a human. They were clearly the man’s children.
Jacob walked away, thinking how awful it had been that the factories took away this man’s passion in a job.