p. 12 | Efficiency in Housework

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 5, 1916

Efficiency in Housework

WHY is it that some women who are regarded as good housekeepers always have time to read or make calls or entertain a friend, and others who have no greater cares are busy at some routine household task from morning until night? The difference is one of efficiency, a word that every successful man knows the meaning of in his business, but that not one woman in a hundred thinks of as in any way applicable to the business of managing a house.

To most women, efficiency means doing their own tasks well. The executive ability shows itself in his power to get the most out of such help as he has. A business man soon learns that his progress depends not merely upon what he himself does,—a quantity that is necessarily limited,—but upon what he can make others do for him. If his position is such that he can hire and discharge his subordinates, the task is so much the easier; but, even if it is not, his executive ability shows itself in his power to get the most out of such help as he has.

What holds good in the office holds good at home. No woman is a really efficient housekeeper who tries to do everything with her own hands. She may think she is more efficient than her servants or her children because she can do some special thing or many things better than they can, but that is only being a skilful dishwasher or a good cook or a faithful scrubber; it is not necessarily being an efficient housekeeper.

The better a woman is at doing her work the harder she finds it to put up with careless or unskilled assistance; nevertheless she must make up her mind either to train others to do their part acceptably, or to be a drudge. What would be thought of a man who had been at the head of a business for twenty years and still considered it necessary to sweep out his office every morning, open packing cases, empty the wastebaskets, and lock up at night? Many a woman who has been the head of a domestic establishment for twenty years does just that, although in the meantime the number of her servants has increased, and children have grown up about her.

Such a policy is particularly unfortunate in a family where there are children. True, little Mary may be awkward about wiping the dishes, and so careless that she breaks many, and it is, indeed, easier to do it yourself; but how about Mary? Has she not the right to be taught? And how can she learn except by doing? Better a broken dish than a daughter growing up to idleness and incompetency.

The woman who wears herself out in the service of a large family has proved her industry and her unselfishness—but she has proved her essential inefficiency also.—Youth’s Companion.