Looking back at it now, several factors had conspired to hinder Stanley's first few days with The Company. For one thing, starting in Ben Franklyn's section meant that his office was stuck back in the farthest reaches of the plant (a single building that sprawled over several blocks). For another thing, his parking lot was there, too. This would have been convenient, except that security regulations required all employees to enter and leave by the front door. Finally, Stanley had arrived in November, the start of the rainy season (which coincided with Stanley's first day on the job).

Stanley's routine was: arrive in the morning, park, walk around the building in the rain, go in the front door, and walk back through the plant to his office, which was about 50 feet from where his car was parked. At the end of the day, walk to the front of the plant, walk around the building (raining harder, usually) to his car, which was about 50feet from his office. After his third or fourth good soaking, Stanley noticed a door at the back of the building between his office and his car. It was a loading gate, attended by a security guard, who made sure that all employees entered/left by the front door, at least the ones who tried to enter/leave by his station.

But one day, Stanley could have sworn he saw one of his fellow workers coming in through that back door. So that night, just before quitting time, he stood by to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, lots of people were going out that gate, and the guard was happy to let them do so.

"Well, that's all right," thought Stanley as he hurried back to his office to get his briefcase. He strode to the door, happy to avoid the rain.

"Your name, please?" demanded the guard. Stanley recited his name. "Sorry, sir, you can't use this door."

So saying, the guard stepped aside, nodding a good day as the guy from the office next to the candy machine went out through the door.

"But why not?" asked Stanley. "These other people are using it."

"Yeah, they're on the list. "List?"

"Mr. Franklyn's list," said the guard. "He's got this list of people it's okay for to go through here."

"Oh, okay," said Stanley. "No problem. I'll get on the list and be back tomorrow."

So Stanley took his long walk, consoled by the thought that it was the last time. Only it wasn't. By now Stanley knew enough not to go directly to Ben Franklyn, but went instead to Bonnie, to find out about the list. He had reasoned correctly that Bonnie, being Ben's administrative assistant, would know everything about the office that was worth knowing. She told him: "Oh yes, Mr. Franklyn's list. Listen, nobody's supposed to use that door, not really, but. Franklyn works it out with the guards so that some of his people, he has this list of them, can go through there."

"Well, how do I get on the list?" Stanley was becoming irritated. Having picked up a sore throat, he wanted to avoid pneumonia or influenza or whatever might result from a 4-block walk (2 coming and 2 going) in the rain every day.

"I'm afraid you don't, Stanley," said Bonnie. "When it's all right for people to go through that door, well, Mr. Franklyn just tells them, that's all. When it's okay, he'll tell you.

Thoughts that could never be uttered in front of Bonnie about Franklyn and the door and the list and security regulations race through Stanley's head. He thinks them very loudly and for a long time because he's quite miffed. It's the most childish, the most bureaucratic, the most inconvenient, the most unfair, the most senseless situation he has ever encountered in his life, and who the hell does Franklyn think he is, and if there was ever a dumb regulation, and The Company, etc., etc., etc.

But, for the next several months, he takes the long walk twice a day (four times if he goes out to lunch), and during those months, he learns more about Ben Franklyn. Franklyn, a self-made man, has worked his way up through the ranks and is old-fashioned in a number of ways. His office is up a stairway in the loft of the mill. From strategically placed windows, he can look down over his area like a feudal lord surveying his fief. He is a good guy to work for, but in that part of the plant, the world is divided in two: his people and other people. His people use that back door; other people don't.

Then, one morning, Bonnie came over and said, "Stanley, Mr. Franklyn wants to see you. I think it's time for your semiannual review."

This is just fine with Stanley. He is sure that he has been doing his work well. He's been getting along with everybody, and it was only last week that he drove in the winning run in the softball game with the traffic department. He strides up the metal stairway to Franklyn's office, only a little apprehensive. He thinks he deserves a raise, but he knows that Ben thinks of The Company's money as his own and doesn't like to part with it."

Come on in. Have a seat," said Ben. "You know, every time we hire one of you high-priced college fellas, I wonder if they're worth it. But you're okay, you do good work, and you know how to get along with other folks. My mill guys say you're a pretty good centerfielder.

"You'll be getting a $2 per hour raise. Stanley is extremely grateful; Ben Franklyn has a way of making people grateful for things that are not only due but are overdue. They talk a little more, and then Stanley gets up to go.

"Oh yeah," says Ben, almost as an afterthought, "I've put your name on the list. Just tell the guard who you are."

Stanley hesitated a moment and thought List? The list? The loading gate list? No, he hadn't forgotten. And wasn't it just like Ben to assume that everyone knew about the list and the guard, though no one ever talked about it?

Yes, sir," said Stanley, beaming. He bounced down the stairs back to his office and, despite himself, spent the rest of the day looking forward to going home through the back door. At quitting time, he strode to the door, gave his name in a confident tone, and was standing in the parking lot in a second. The rainy season was over, and the sun shone warmly down on Stanley as he walked 25 feet to his car. All the way home, he thought what a good day it had been.

Now, Stanley isn't the kind of person who likes to play The Company's game, and he's likely to tell anyone where to go if they play "Mickey Mouse" with him. To this day, he still can't figure out why he didn't tell Franklyn to take the loading gate and shove it, that it was none of Franklyn's damn business who went where because it wasn't.

But Stanley still remembers that his feelings that day had been quite the opposite, not irritated or even indifferent, but genuinely pleased and grateful. That day, he was part of the mill management. That day he knew he was one of Ben Franklyn's boys.

When you worked for Ben Franklyn, you did more than work; you became part of his family. Franklyn, like many effective managers, finds ways of extending his authority into areas not covered by the formal rules. Through his control of favors and sanctions, he maintains the personal loyalty of his people and broadens the range of his influence.

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