It is said that the public and Congressional concern about deceptive packaging rumpus started because Senator Hart discovered that the boxes of cereals consumed by him, Mrs. Hart, and their children were becoming higher and narrower, with a decline of net weight from 12 to 10.5 ounces, without any reduction in price. There were still twelve biscuits, but they had been reduced in size. Later, the Senator rightly complained of a store-bought pie in a handsomely illustrated box that pictured, in a single slice, almost as many cherries as there were in the whole pie.
    The manufacturer who increases the unit price of his product by changing his package size to lower the quantity delivered can, without undue hardship, put his product into boxes, bags, and tins that will contain even 4-ounce, 8-ounce, one-pound, two-pound quantities of breakfast foods, cake mixes, etc. A study of drugstore and supermarket shelves will convince any observer that all possible size and shapes of boxes, jars, bottles, and tins are in use at the same time and, as the package journals show, week by week, there is never any hesitation in introducing a new size, and shape of box or bottle when it aids in product differentiation. The producers of packaged products argue strongly against changing sizes of packages to contain even weights and volumes, but no one in the trade comments unfavorably on the huge costs incurred by endless changes of package sizes, materials, shape, art work, and net weights that are used for improving a product’s market position.
    When a packaging expert explained that he was able to multiply the price of hard sweets by 2.5, from 1 dollar to 2.50 dollars by changing to a fancy jar, or that he had made a 5-ounce bottle look as though it held 8 ounces, he was in effect telling the public that packaging can be a very expensive luxury. It evidently does come high, when an average family pays about 200 dollars a year for bottles, cans, boxes, jars and other containers, most of which can’t be used anything but stuffing the garbage can.

    If sustainable competitive advantage depends on work-force skills, American firms have a problem. Human-resource management is not traditionally seen as central to the competitive survival of the firm in United States. Skill acquisition is considered an individual responsibility. Labour is simply another factor of production to be hired-rented at the lowest possible cost-much as one buys raw materials or equipment.
    The lack of importance attached to human-resource management can be seen in the corporate hierarchy. In an American firm the chief financial officer is almost always second in command. The post of head of human-resource management is usually a specialized job, off at the edge of the corporate hierarchy. The executive who holds it is never consulted on major strategic decisions and has no chance to move up to Chief Executive Officer (CEO). By way of contrast, in Japan the head of human-resource management is central-usually the second most important executive, after the CEO, in the firm’s hierarchy.
    While American firms often talk about the vast amounts spent on training their work forces, in fact they invest less in the skills of their employees than do either Japanese or German firms. The money they do invest is also more highly concentrated on professional and managerial employees. And the limited investments that are made in training workers are also much more narrowly focused on the specific skills necessary to do the next job rather than on the basic background skills that make it possible to absorb new technologies.
    As a result, problems emerge when new breakthrough technologies arrive. If American workers, for example, take much longer to learn how to operate new flexible manufacturing stations than workers in Germany (as they do), the effective cost of those stations is lower in Germany than it is in the United States. More time is required before equipment is up and running at capacity, and the need for extensive retraining generates costs and creates bottlenecks that limit the speed with which new equipment can be employed. The result is as lower pace of technological change. And in the end the skills of the population affect the wages of the top half. If the bottom half can’t effectively staff the processes that have to be operated, the management and professional jobs that to with these processes will disappear.

    The biographer has to dance between two shaky positions with respect to the subject. Too close a relation, and the writer may be objectivity. Not close enough, and the writer may lack the sympathy necessary to any effort to portray a mind, a soul-the quality of life. Who should write the biography of a family, for example? Because of their closeness to the subject, family members may have special information, but by the same token, they may not have the distance that would allow them to be fair. Similarly, a king’s servant might not be the best one to write a biography of that king. But a foreigner might not have the knowledge and sympathy necessary to write the king’s biography-not for a readership from within the kingdom, at any rate.
    There is no ideal position for such a task. The biographer has to work with the position he or she has in the world, adjusting that position as necessary to deal with the subject. Every position has strengths and weaknesses: to thrive, a writer must try to become aware of these, evaluate them in terms of the subject, and select a position accordingly.
    When their subjects are heroes or famous figures, biographies often reveal a democratic motive: they attempt to show that their subjects are only human, no better than anyone else. Other biographies are meant to change us, to invite us to become better than we are. The biographies of Jesus found in the Bible are in this class.
    Biographers may claim that their account is the “authentic” one. In advancing this claim, they are helped if the biography is “authorized” by the subject, this presumably allows the biographer special access to private information. “Unauthorized” biographies also have their appeal, however, since they can suggest an independence of mind in the biographer. In book promotions, the “unauthorized” characterisation usually suggests the prospect of juicy gossip that the subject had hoped to suppress. A subject might have several biographies, even several “authentic” ones. We sense intuitively that no one is in a position to tell the story of a life, perhaps not even the subject, and this has been proved by the history of biography.

    Whether the eyes are “the windows of the soul” is debatable, that they are intensely important in interpersonal communication is a fact. During the first two months of a baby’s life, the stimulus that produces a smile is a pair of eyes. The eyes need not be real: a mask with two dots will produce a smile. Significantly, a real human face with eyes then the face will not motivate a smile, nor will the sight of only one eye then the face is presented in profile. This attraction to eyes as opposed to the nose or mouth continues as the baby matures. In one study, when American four-year-olds were asked to draw people, 75 percent of them drew people with mouths, but 99 percent of them drew people with eyes. In Japan, however, where babies are carried on their mother’s back, infants to not acquire as much attachment to eyes as they do in other cultures. As a result, Japanese adults make little use of the face either to encode or decode meaning. In fact, Argyle reveals that the “proper place to focus one’s gaze during a conversation in Japan is on the neck of one’s conversation partner.”
    The role of eye contact in a conversational exchange between two Americans is well defined: speakers make contact with the eyes of their listener for about one second, then glance away as they talk; in a few moments they re-establish eye contact with the listener or reassure themselves that their audience is still attentive, then shift their gaze away once more. Listeners, meanwhile, keep their eyes on the face of the speaker, allowing themselves-to glance away only briefly. It is important that they be looking at the speaker at the `precise moment when the speaker reestablishes eye contact: if they are not looking, the speaker assumes that they are disinterested and either will pause until eye contact is resumed or will terminate the conversation. Just how critical this eye maneuvering is to the maintenance of conversational flow becomes evident when two speakers are wearing dark glasses: there may be a sort of traffic jam of words caused by interruption, false starts, and unpredictable pauses.

    I once knew a dog named Newton who had a unique sense of humour. Whenever I tossed out a Frisbee for him to chase, he’d take off in hot pursuit but then seem to lose track of it. Moving back and forth only a yard of two from the toy, Newton would look all around, even up into the trees. He seemed genuinely puzzled. Finally, I’d give up and head into the field to help him out. But no sooner would I get within 10 ft. Of him than he would run invariably straight over to the Frisbee, grab it and start running like mad, looking over his shoulder with what looked suspiciously like a grin.
    Just about every pet owner has a story like this and is eager to share it with anyone who will listen. On very short notice, TIME reporters cam up with 25 stories about what each is convinced is the smartest pet in the world. Among them: the cat who closes the door behind him when he goes into the bathroom; the cat who uses a toilet instead of a litter box... and flushes it afterward; the dog who goes wild when he sees his owner putting on blue jeans instead of a dress because jeans mean it is time to play; and the cat who used to wait patiently at the bus stop every day for a little girl, then walk her the six blocks home. And so on.
    These behaviours are certainly clever, but what do they mean? Was Newton really deceiving? Can a cat really desire privacy in the toilet? In short, do household pets really have a mental and emotional life? Their owners think so, but until recently, animal-behaviour exports would have gone mad on hearing such a question. The worst sin in the worst sin in their moral vocabulary was anthropomorphism, projecting human traits onto animals. A dog or a cat might behave as if it were angry, lonely, sad, happy or confused, but that was only in the eye of the viewer. What was going on, they insisted was that the dog or cat had been conditioned, through a perhaps unintentional series of punishments and rewards, the behave certain way. The behaviour was a mechanical result of the training.

My View on Job-Hopping