The Avatar of Efficiency (2)
They say that among modern office workers, the younger generation doesn't particularly enjoy company dinners.
It’s not because the young people are especially rude or steeped in individualism.
After finishing work, it’s only human nature to want to go home, wash up in warm water, sprawl out on the bed, play a round of games, or watch a show. Who would want to go out and cater to the whims of their superiors?
It’s not like they’re going to some mind-blowing gourmet restaurant, and in 21st-century South Korea, most young people working in society can afford the kind of meals they want with their own salaries.
That’s right. In the end, it’s a matter of cost-effectiveness.
Let’s assume a company holds a company dinner at an ultra-high-end buffet with unlimited caviar, lobster, and snow crab, or rents out a three-star Michelin restaurant.
Would people still insist that their time after work is precious and that they want to go home?
They would absolutely participate, take a ton of photos, and immediately brag on social media about the amazing benefits they’re enjoying.
The workers on my plantation are no different.
To them, the monthly dinner was exactly that kind of experience, and that’s why they couldn’t help but go wild with joy.
"Truly, truly thank you, Master!"
"I will work even harder from now on! Please, I beg of you, do this again next month!"
"That depends on how you perform, not on me."
I told those who had been drinking to have a glass of switchel each to help with their hangovers, and then dismissed the workers, promising to see them next time.
Of course, a single dinner isn't enough to turn every slave into my follower.
Since they’ve eaten and drunk their fill, isn't it time to get their bodies moving?
The day after the enjoyable dinner.
As soon as the regular worship service ended, I gathered all the slaves in the open field.
Faces still buzzing with the excitement of last night looked up at me, murmuring.
The field was already marked with white powder, and wooden boards covered in cloth were planted at four points.
"You are my most important assets. But if you only keep working, you’ll fall ill, and work efficiency will drop. A human body is different from a machine. I will never stand by and watch my asset value depreciate. From now on, I will maximize your value—and my plantation’s profits—through physical improvement and stress relief."
Even if I don't look like it, I’m a man who even mastered amateur baseball in my past life just to get on my bosses' good side.
Teaching slaves how to enjoy baseball was as easy as downing a beer in one shot.
Fortunately, baseball exists in America right now, but it’s only enjoyed on a small scale in places like New York, and the rules are very different from the modern era.
Since town ball is more widely popularized than baseball, it’s the perfect excuse to say, "Black people should just play the unpopular baseball."
"The name of this ball game is 'Baseball.' The rules are simple. When the pitcher over there throws the ball, the batter hits it and runs. If you step on all four bases and return home, you get 1 point. Simple, right?"
I first called out Ben and Henry to demonstrate.
"But the most important thing is injury prevention. If you get hurt, the number of people who can work decreases. Therefore, throwing the ball to hit a runner is prohibited. You must tag them directly with your hand to get an out. And since you might get hurt catching the ball directly even with gloves, I will recognize an out if you catch the ball after it bounces once on the ground."
I added a few core rules: three strikes for an out, and three outs per inning to switch between offense and defense.
"Teams will be a mix of field workers, technical staff, and house staff, and will be reorganized every month. Women will not participate in the game, but if you pick a cheering team and boost their morale, you will share in the rewards that team receives."
"Ooooooh!"
Men are naturally inclined to squeeze out strength they didn't know they had when women are watching.
Adding a cheering culture will clearly make it a more fun game.
But if it’s just a game, honestly, they’ll get bored quickly, right?
Finally, I dangled a carrot.
"The team with the best monthly record will receive special rewards at the dinner. There will be practical prizes like flour and salt, as well as extra beer. Oh, and to foster cooperation among team members, I will also select a 'Fair Play Award.' You will vote for this yourselves, but you cannot vote for your own team members. Keep that in mind."
"Yes, sir!"
"Henry was bragging that the beer is on a whole different level..."
"Can we try whiskey too?"
The baseball league of the Sett Plantation, JLB (James League Baseball), mixed with excitement, anticipation, and joy.
The first game began.
The result was, naturally, total chaos.
Swinging and missing was cute; the ball flew toward the feet of the women watching instead of the catcher.
There were runners who hit a base hit and ran back to 1st base instead of 3rd, and it was common for five or six fielders to rush at the ball at once, only to tangle and fall over each other.
"Pfft! Look at that guy's feet!"
"Hey, hey! Sam! That's a foul!"
As expected, it’s a mess.
I sat on the cool veranda, sipping switchel with lemon through a straw.
"Hey! You won't hit it if you swing like that! Watch the ball and swing!"
Of course, I didn't forget to give advice at the top of my lungs occasionally.
The women laughed and were completely absorbed in the entertainment they were seeing for the first time in their lives.
The first day ended with everyone just getting the hang of it, and I thought the friendly atmosphere would continue... but anyone who has watched baseball even once knows that’s impossible.
Because baseball is a sport that drives people crazy.
The very next Tuesday, as soon as the short break given after work began, the slaves gathered in the open field under the overseer's supervision as if they had promised to.
"Henry, you have strong shoulders, so try throwing the ball as if you're slamming it down from above!"
"No, no! Master said yesterday that if you throw like that, your shoulder will give out!"
Rewards are rewards, but once they start competing, they must want to win, right?
Without me even telling them, they started correcting each other's posture and quickly began to sync up.
Even Leo, true to his brainy nature, was analyzing the game itself and strategizing.
"In my opinion, you can't win this game if you can't catch the ball!"
"...Is that so?"
"Hitting the ball is similar for everyone. But defense is different. If we just stand in position efficiently, it can make a huge difference."
Kuh, as expected of my valet, Leo.
While the other beginners were only discussing how to hit the ball well, he was the first to grasp the importance of defense.
"Monthly 1st place is ours!"
"Woooooo!"
In fact, controlling the masses' discontent through sports or circuses is a long-standing tradition that has continued since the Roman era.
I can't say that the spread of baseball has absolutely no such purpose, but honestly, this was also part of my own hobby.
In this era without smartphones or computers, shouldn't I have one or two things to enjoy?
The beginners are struggling to win somehow, and I, watching them, feel like a manager, giving this and that piece of advice while tearing into chicken and drinking beer in a front-row seat.
"Hey, you idiot! That was clearly a foul, so why the hell are you running to 1st base?"
"What? Are your eyes just for decoration? It clearly went inside the line by a hair!"
Being obsessed with sports is like a trait of Americans, so our Black friends must be proper Americans too.
The slaves of the Sett Plantation were becoming increasingly obsessed without anyone telling them to, and the heat on the field was rising more and more.
The second Sunday afternoon of November 1856.
A carriage carrying a pair of man and woman entered the Sett Plantation, which had recently banned outsiders.
Those who came to find out the secret to squeezing slaves were all chased away, but since the owner of this carriage was James's family, they were not stopped.
James's older sister, Kate, who got off the carriage, asked her husband standing next to her as if she didn't want to.
"John, are you really going to stop James?"
"I told you. No matter how much they are slaves, they shouldn't be treated so inhumanely."
"I didn't get the impression that James treats his slaves harshly..."
"Hoo... Kate. The rumors have already spread throughout Mississippi. You heard how much profit James's plantation is making."
After the banquet held at the Melrose Estate last time, a rumor spread beyond Mississippi and throughout the South.
That a man named James, who had newly inherited a plantation in Mississippi, was raising profits by squeezing slaves in a truly artistic way.
It’s said that he pushes them to the limit while maintaining the line where they don't die and maintain their health, so exquisite that it’s baffling.
There were an enormous number of slave owners who were dying to know this secret, and it reached the point where people were asking Kate and John about it one after another.
Naturally, Kate said they should know by looking at their own plantation profits and that it was something they didn't know, and John openly voiced that he did not agree with James's policy.
"We might become distant from my brother-in-law, but this inhumane act must be stopped. When we close our eyes later and stand before the Lord, what on earth will He say to us?"
"John... I like that about you, but if you break James's will, other Southerners might actually kill you."
"...Still, someone has to say it. I don't think my brother-in-law is a person with an evil nature. If I talk to him step by step, surely..."
Just as he was about to express his hope that they would be able to communicate.
"Wooooooaaaaaah!"
A tremendous roar, as if dozens of people were shouting at once, echoed.
Are they abusing the slaves so much that they are screaming like that even on the Lord's Day, not any other day?
John closed his eyes tightly and sighed.
"Brother-in-law... how on earth did you become such a person?"
As expected, even if he says somewhat harsh words, someone has to set this right.
John and Kate, who walked briskly to the front of the mansion, could see James, whom they had been looking for so much, shouting loudly from the veranda.
"No, no, that's a balk! You can't stop while in the pitching motion! How many times do I have to tell you, you guys!"
"That's right, that's right! Master hates repeating the same thing over and over! You guys who only commit fouls!"
"What? Fouls? Hey, you bastards, you hit that base hit because you listened to Master's advice. If you put it that way, you guys committed a foul too!"
They momentarily forgot what to say at the sight of the slaves running around and shouting at the top of their lungs.
"Master! If you're going to give advice from now on, please do it fairly!"
"That's right! Master's advice has a direct impact on the game results!"
"Alright, alright. Then I'll give the best advice to each team alternately from now on."
...They said he squeezes them harshly? That?
James, who discovered the two people who were bewildered, stood up abruptly and shouted to the slaves who were playing a ball game similar to town ball.
"Guests have arrived, so I'll go see them for a moment. You guys keep going!"
"Yes, sir!"
James came down to the 1st floor as if he were running and greeted the two.
"Sister, it's been a while. Brother-in-law, welcome too. What brings you here?"
"Uh... that is..."
He was going to say that if he abuses the slaves so much, all this karma will come back later.
"Kiyoooooot!"
Crack!
"He hit it! He hit it! Run! You can definitely make it in! Run!"
"Kuhahahaha! Did you see the swing of Henry, the best slugger of JLB!"
Is that the atmosphere of people being abused?
What on earth was the rumor spreading in the South?
"Uh... brother-in-law, that is. I..."
"James, John heard that you treat your slaves too harshly and came because he was worried. But the atmosphere is very different from what he thought, isn't it?"
"Ah, this? Healthy slaves work better, so I'm having them exercise hard."
"Are you playing town ball?"
"No. If you make slaves play a sport that white people enjoy, naturally, some people will come and pick fights. So I modified a ball game enjoyed in New York in my own way."
That looks more complete than town ball... anyway, no matter how I look at it, it didn't look like he was abusing slaves.
In the first place, could those who are abused so much that they can't even breathe complain to their master not to give advice?
Unlike John, who was confused, Kate, who had been to New York with James, could roughly understand the situation.
"Did you purposely spread strange rumors to hide the real method?"
"Yeah. Would I be crazy enough to leak the management secrets of my plantation to the outside?"
"I see. But James, you know that people are extremely interested in your method right now, right? There are one or two friends who are begging me to please find out for them. Wouldn't it be impossible to hide this method forever?"
"Of course, I can't hide it forever. But for the time being, it's a no. Even if I reveal the secret, I have to reveal it after I've reached a level where no one can touch me and no one can imitate me."
Of course, if rumors are so rampant, people who want to confirm the reality will eventually come rushing in.
James looked at Kate and John alternately for a moment and then slowly nodded.
"Then, since the two of you have come in person, can I get some help?"
"Sure. Since our guy misunderstood, I'll help with anything."
"I'll officially let the friends I asked you about tour our plantation. However, weekdays are out because it interferes with the harvest, so how about next Sunday?"
It means he can't show them the actual work because it's a trade secret, but he will show them how they rest and manage the slaves.
"...Is that okay?"
"Of course. It's actually better. Because I just need to stage the appearance they want."
If uncertain rumors are spreading wildly, it’s enough to give substance to those rumors and confirm them.
What kind of work James Sett, the coldest and most vicious slave king in Mississippi, is doing behind the scenes.
Southerners whose heads are full of only thoughts of squeezing slaves wouldn't even be able to imagine it.