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SHEPHERD MEAD is vice-president in charge of television copy at Benton y Bowles advertising agency, an excellent vantage point to study the predatory habits of that curious and alarming profession. From these observations he has spun out a number of books including "The Magnificent Maclnnes," a merciless ribbing of the survey and research racket, and "Tessie: the Hound of Channel One," a satire on television which he described as a wonderful medium which jumped straight "from infancy into senescence."
In his latest, Mr. Mead has broadened his field of fire to take in the whole field of business, though I rather suspect that the practices of which he writes with such consummate authority are more extensively practiced in the advertising dodge than anywhere else. The name of the latest opus, "How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying," is a pretty fair indication of the contents which are highly immoral.
It is a perfectly wonderful compendium of the methods used every day to get ahead without the exercise of brains or hard work, by clever credit-grabbings, back-stabbing and apple polishing. Mead covers the whole field thoroughly from how to get the job right on to elbowing the old man aside and stealing the business from him in wonderfully abbreviated and witty sentences. I'm especially captivated by the helpful bits of suggested dialogue for all possible occasions.
How, for example, explain that you'd just got pitched out of your last job on your ear. Here are a few of Mead's suggestions. "I felt I had outgrown them." Or: "Let's face it. They're not uo to you people." Or: "Well, it's an old outfit. I
Apple-Polishing, Back-Stabbing, and Other Sports
By JOHN CROSBY
want to work with voung men." (If the interviewer is young) Or: (If he's old.) "Somehow they seem a bit callow. I want a shop with experience."
Once you get your feet in the door, Mead recommends a merry ruthlessness. The chapter on how to be a fair-haired boy, for example, pretty well covers the field. Cultivate the boss's hobbies, says Mead: then some bright day in the elevator, fire your opening gun:
"Got to hurry home, sir. The little devils are whelping."
"Whelping, Finch. Don't tell me you're a mongoose man!"
"Are you, too, sir? We are a rare breed, aren't we? Tell me, do you favor snake meat or kippers?"
Your really brilliant apple-polisher isn't even above adopting the old man's school. "A few days spent at Old Ivy State Teacher's Normal will supply you with all the necessary information and equipment ... A good opening wedge may offer itself on a Monday following Old Ivy's disastrous defeat by a traditional rival."
Sidle up to the old man and mutter: "Sorry, sir. Not myself today. Rarely touch a drop, but I did belt off one strong one yesterday. Those damned Chipmunks!"
"Chipmunks?" (His nostrils begin to quiver.)
"Oh, beg pardon, sir. You can't be expected to know. The old school took quite a drubbing Saturday. Old Ivy."
"Old Ivy? You're not an old Ivy Man, uh . . ."
"Finch, sir. Old Ivy '24."
"Well, by God, Finch! Old Ivy, by God! Well, we'll get the damned Chipmunks next year, won't we?"