Posts Tagged ‘Mr Mulliner’


The conversation at the bar-parlour of the Angler’s Rest revolved around cinema and, and, as often happens, Miss Postlethwaite, our erudite barmaid and avid cinema goer, was at the centre of it.

‘”Bouncy Borgias” is now one my favourite films of all time’ said she to a Stout and Bitter. ‘And Lorna Laverne was marvellous as Lucrezia Borgia. Fancy being at the heart of all that poisoning, stabbing and strangling and be able to sing, dance and keep those wily Cardinals in line into the bargain.‘

‘I beg to differ’, uttered a Scotch and Soda. ‘Her role as Agustina Domenech in “Pirouetting Peninsulars” took historical facts to a new dimension. I never thought that the balletic and vocal efforts of women could deal such tremendous blows to Napoleon’s troops. The Duke of Wellington surely learned a thing or two from them.’

‘You may well have a point, there’, said a Tankard of Ale.

‘Not to mention “Gengis, the Graceful Khan”’, said a Brandy and Ginger Ale.

This was when Mr. Mulliner, with his usual sense of timing and courtesy, stepped in. ‘I am so glad you enjoy Miss Laverne’s terpsichorean performances. But credit must be given where it is due, and, in her present case, it must be laid at my nephew Cedric’s door.’

‘You mean your nephew discovered her?’ asked Miss Postlethwaite, in wonder.

‘Discovered would be going too far. By the time they first met she already was a star in the Hollywood firmament’, replied Mr. Mulliner. ‘What Cedric did was to point in the right direction. Or stumble. Or fall, if one wants to be precise.’

‘It must have been quite a feat’, added a Gin Gimlet.

It was not without its trials and tribulations’ (said Mr. Mulliner), since it happened almost at the end of that Coronavirus scare, when Cedric was working for the Medulla-Oblongata Studios as a humble Nodder, a position far below that of a Yesser (of which there are Senior Yessers, Yessers and Junior Yessers) at cinema script and treatment conferences where the studio boss is present. And it was one of those conferences – where tempers where already strained, given that the boss of the Medulla-Oblongata Studios had, months before, decided to quarantine all the staff and artistes in the studio lot to keep things going – that presented Cedric with the opportunity to further his and Miss Laverne’s careers.

‘Next item on the agenda: I need to find a way to keep that Lorna Laverne here and cease from pestering me’, said the boss of the Medulla-Oblongata Studios. ‘She demands that I take her career to a new level, or else she will leave and sign a deal with the Colossal-Exquisite people and sue me for “artistic damages” or something like that.’

‘But isn’t she happy with what she’s got here?’ asked a casting director. ‘If I recall correctly, she was plain Miss Lulubelle McCracker, winner of a beauty pageant in Wyoming involving wrestling bisons, juggling loaded and cocked Winchester rifles whilst hoofing and felling trees by shouting before we took her in. And now she is up there on the screen, bejewelled, coiffed and dressed in silks and furs as the favourite moll of top-drawer gangsters and ruffians – and being handsomely paid for it, too. What more can a dame want at this day and age?’

‘All this is true, my friend, but this particular dame wants more’, said the boss. ‘She wants to “venture abroad”, “enlighten the masses” or something like that. I can deal with any lawsuits she may throw at us, but her physical strength, voice and dexterity with a loaded and cocked firearm can be extremely unsettling.’

‘This is as huge a lulu as I’ve ever seen’, interjected a director. ‘Her acting capabilities beyond her present roles are negligible, and her knowledge of history extends only as far as last year’s Big League baseball results’.

‘That’s as may be’, retorted the boss, ‘but we must find a way out of this. Go away, think about it and let’s meet again here in two hours. I want solutions, gentlemen, and urgently. Bring me ideas. Find a way to give that harpy the ”enlightenment” she wants to give the masses and I will not forget the one who does it – nor those who don’t’, he ended, menacingly.

On that note, Cedric nodded and left the conference room in a sombre mood. He desperately wanted to get on in life so as to be able to marry his affianced and, for the past months, had been practising his “Yesses” in the privacy of his studio bunk in the hope that, once he had proved beyond doubt that his nodding was as good as any, he could get a leg up to Junior Yesser – and getting the sack now would put paid to all his plans. But he knew that the task ahead was gigantic and time was short: beyond the statuesque figure, alabaster skin, sultry eyes, cascading hair and dazzling smile that had propelled her to the silver screen, Lorna Laverne was, literally, a slab of granite – and one thoroughly refractory to being interfered with by any hammer and chisel at that. Besides, the enforced confinement in the studio had taken its toll on him, sapping his mental faculties and setting his nerves on edge.

But we, Mulliners, do not run away from the battlefield, however large the odds against us may be. Thus, Cedric decided to fortify himself with a hamburger and a frosted malted milk at the commissary before entering the fray, and duly made his way there, where he found himself seated next to a stuntman of unmistakeable Latin extraction and inquisitive stare.

‘You look troubled, amigo’, said the stuntman, in a demonstration of unexpected sympathy and insight. ‘Whatever your problems are, you will not solve them with malted milk. What you want is a good, chilled bottle of Corona beer. It will help you think straight, believe me. By the way, my name is Garcia and I work as a stuntman here’.

Cedric was surprised by such a friendly intrusion and alarmed at the mention of the name Garcia, but – unlike the unshaven, unkempt, uneducated, uncouth and untrustworthy desperados, gunslingers, cattle-rustlers and corrupt colonial despots that ancient family supplies in astonishingly large numbers (matched only, and occasionally, by the Gonzales) to Hollywood’s films – that particular Garcia seemed capable of passing muster in polite society.

‘That’s very civil of you’, said Cedric, ‘but I fear that alcohol will impair my judgement. I have an important meeting in two hours’ time, and must keep all my wits about me so as to be able to have some ideas and, maybe, land a promotion. And does this beer have anything at all to do with that virus that has been doing the rounds? Oh, and my name is Mulliner, by the way’.

‘There’s nothing to it, Mulliner. Corona is known for its soothing, refreshing action and is also a heck of a guaranteed virus-killer. I usually have a couple before being chucked down some flights of stairs or hurled off the back of a bull and trampled by the rest of the herd. If anything, it helps dull the ensuing pain’, said the genial stuntman in an encouraging way.

That did it. Cedric needed to refresh his brain, soothe his nerves and take insurance against the probable pain of the sack later on, and ordered a bottle. It came chilled and with a wedge of lemon stuck down its neck, something that did not prevent him from downing it in one go and gave it an extremely pleasant lemonade-like taste. But now the table he was sitting at began to fill with a dozen or more friends of the stuntman: fellow stuntmen, gofers, assistant directors, a wardrobe assistant and suchlike, and the arrival of every newcomer had to be marked and celebrated with bottles of Corona beer, again downed in one.

‘This is Cedric, a Limey who nods at board meetings’, was the way he was introduced to every newcomer. Cedric took a thorough liking to that jolly group of stalwarts of the film industry who made him forget his troubles (most particularly Lorna Laverne and what to do for her) and emulated their drinking to the point of first getting utterly yet unwittingly sozzled and, then, engaging in jovial and earthy banter with them – which climaxed in a food fight that brought a whole, freshly baked and expertly thrown apple pie to land on his midriff, liberally spreading its contents over his trousers, coat, shirt, tie, socks and shoes.

The impact of the apple pie, as well as the damage its shrapnel did to his clothes, put a stop to Cedric’s revelries and brought down to earth with a thud. Apart from looking like a casualty of a botched up heist on a pastry shop, being unable to say “British Constitution” properly and stand up without swaying, he had not had a single thought about how to give Lorna Laverne what she wanted. The situation suddenly turned from festive to funereal and his face showed it, whereupon the amiable lady wardrobe assistant asked: ‘What’s the matter, Limey? You look like you have to face a firing squad next’.

‘I will schertainly have to feish one’, Cedric replied, leaning forward with arms planted on the table for support. ‘I have to be at the boardroom in fifteen minitssh and look at the schhhtate of me… The bosshhhh will not like it. I will get the shack‘.

‘Then we have to do something about it’, said the resourceful wardrobe assistant. ‘First let’s get you some clothes and then some of the boys can carry you to the boardroom’.

‘Jolly deeeshent of you’, replied Cedric, now lying in a heap on the floor. ‘Muttsh appressshiated’.

Following that, four of the stuntmen whisked Cedric away to the wardrobe cupboard in an adjoining sound studio and the wardrobe mistress rummaged inside it to see what could fit him, having found a pair of Arabic slippers with curled toes, riding breeches, a Napoleonic army tunic and a Mongolian pointed hat – and that would have to do. Cedric was quickly decanted into that potpourri of clothes whilst forced to ingest half a gallon of black coffee and have cold water thrown on his face in the process. Then the four stuntmen carried him to the boardroom whilst trying to give instructions as to how to behave once there:

‘Walk towards your chair whilst having your back pressed hard against the wall’, said one.

‘Do what you do best: say nothing, look at the boss and just nod – but not so hard as to bang your head on the table’, said another.

Presently, they arrived at the conference room’s door, where, from within, the sounds of a most serious altercation could be heard, since Miss Lorna Laverne had decided to give the boss of the Medulla-Oblongata Studios an ultimatum in person and stormed into the conference room full of executives, Yessers and Nodders before Cedric could arrive there.

‘Come now, Lorna. There’s no need to break things or point that gun at me. I have my best people working on ideas to give you what you want’, the boss was heard to say, sounding clearly afraid for his life.

‘Really, sweetie? Do you? And what have your so called best people done, so far?’ Lorna retorted, in a voice dripping with scorn, as she sent a china ornament smashing against a wall. ‘Nothing. Zilch. Bupkes. That’s what. This collection of idiots can´t think of anything original for me. Look at them: afraid to pitch a single good idea and incapable to say a word about it out of fear. I will have to take steps! I have my reputation to protect! I have an artistic name to consider! I have warned you! I have the Colossal-Exquisite people right outside, despite the quarantine, with a big fat contract awaiting my signature, a lawyer ready to file a major suit against you and a press-agent rubbing his hands in anticipation of a juicy story about how you have been hampering my career on purpose!’

‘But Lorna. Lulubelle, dear…’ croaked the studio boss, pleadingly. ‘Please understand…’

‘Don’t you Lulubelle me, you insect! It’s Miss Laverne to you from now on. And good-bye forever!’ shouted Lorna as she threw her Colt 45 revolver up in the air before catching it in her handbag and jerked open the door to leave the conference room and the premises of the Medulla-Oblongata Studios forever. And this is when the tables were turned, both in the figurative and the literal sense.

What no-one inside the room knew was that such a magnificent altercation, carrying with it the exciting possibilities of furniture being smashed, glass broken and shots fired, had galvanised the attention of Cedric and the four stuntmen, with bets on who would come out of that room unscathed, slightly injured or in need of an ambulance placed. And also that Cedric, due to his inebriated state and to better hear how events were unfolding inside, together with the stuntmen, had been leaning sideways with one ear pressed against the door. So, when Lorna Laverne yanked the door open from the inside, she caused Cedric and the stuntmen to enter the room from the outside in a most spectacular, unusual and, in her eyes, entrancing manner.

Cedric, in his melange of an attire and inebriated state, unused to breaking falls and caught unawares by the sudden lack of support to his body, came first. He took five sideways, uneven and twirling steps into the conference room whilst rotating his outstretched arms like a dervish whose gyroscope had been damaged and plunged sidelong on to the floor, upsetting, in the process, an occasional table, a coffee table and a hat-stand. Two of the stuntmen closest to Cedric at the door came into the room almost at the same time as he did, but managed to avoid the debris on the floor, somersaulted over his falling body and landed neatly on their knees on top of the conference table with their backs arched backwards and arms extending upwards as if to indicate that their performance had been completed. The other two stuntmen entered the room a second later in judo-like, downward and sideways movements, rolled noiselessly on the floor and stood up in one single motion as if that was their usual way of entering rooms. For a moment, nobody else in the conference room could do anything but to stare in utter disbelief at what had just happened, and it fell upon Lorna Laverne, looking fixedly at Cedric’s collapsed form on the floor, to break the silence.

‘That’s it! That’s what I was looking for! You’ve done it!’ she said in a voice that shattered an ashtray next to one of the “Yessers”.

‘Who did what, Lorna? What do you mean?’ asked the boss, now trying to nurse a perforated eardrum.

‘He did it! The one who came in first! The one who performed that wonderfully exotic dance whilst dressed like one of those French sultans who served in the Colombian-Russo-Manchurian cavalry, as we read about in history books! That’s what I mean: this is culture! This is history told in a way anyone can like! This is foreign!’ Lorna said, clearly enraptured.

‘He is a foreigner, Lorna. He’s a Limey’, painfully retorted the studio boss.

‘So much the better’, replied Lorna. ‘I’ll bet his family is as old as New York City Hall and he has been to a university founded some years before Wrigley Field was built. And what is the name of that genius, that hero, and what does he do here?’

‘His name is Cedric Mulliner, and he is a Nodder’, said the boss, now realising that, for some reason still unclear to him, his problems with Lorna Laverne seemed to be disappearing.

‘Not anymore, buster’, said Lorna decisively. From now on, not only he is a Senior Yesser at ten times his present salary but also – and on a separate, special contract at that, at two thousand dollars a week, plus an extra five hundred apiece for his four assistants here who will ensure the historical integrity of every plot – my sole advisor and script developer for singing and dancing historical movies in which I will star! Ah, yes! And you will lift this dreadful quarantine that you have imposed on us! That’s what I demand. And if you don’t like it, I’ll take myself, Cedric the Limey and whomever he wants from this two-bit outfit and go to Colossal-Exquisite. It’s entirely up to you, mister!’

‘Let me see if I am getting this right, Lorna’, said the boss, now with some of his composure regained. ‘If I give you Cedric Mulliner, lift the quarantine, agree to all your terms and conditions and let you create and be the star in what you call “historical movies to enlighten the masses” you will remain with us, stop harassing me and no longer pose a threat to my life?’

‘Attaboy!’, replied Lorna. That’s exactly what I mean’.

‘And you, Mr. Mulliner? Do you agree to be promoted from Nodder to Senior Yesser and also become Miss Laverne’s chief scenario developer, all that under the terms and financial conditions she has just put to me? If not, is there anything more you want?’ asked the boss.

Apart from medical attention to deal with his bruises and the inevitably ensuing hangover, there was nothing more that Cedric could even contemplate wanting. And given his still inebriated condition and also by force of old habit, he could but nod in agreement.

(Eduardo Garcia introduces himself thus:

Eduardo “Duca” Garcia is quite probably the most un-trendy and least technologically-savvy person involved with Trends Studies. He is also a human salad, having been born in Rio, received an anglicised education and lived in the UK, Spain, Central Asia and Portugal. To complicate matters further, he is married to a woman of Brazilian, English, U.S. and Greek extraction – whose stepfather was a Dutchman – and his son lives and works in Denmark.

His career was mostly devoted to Marketing and Advertising, something that forced him to look at the consumer, society and mentalities in more detail – if only to avoid sending the wrong message to the wrong people at the wrong time and being rightly sacked for doing so – and his start in Trends Studies began when he was in Kazakhstan and Carl Rohde was unwise enough to invite him to contribute to Science of the Time.

He can be contacted at eduardo.garcia@40maislab.pt or through Facebook.)


(Permission to publish this piece on this blog site is gratefully acknowledged!)


(Illustration courtesy Wikipedia)

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The brand called Jeeves stands for impeccable service. It signifies delivery of results which exceed one’s expectations, that too with due respect, politeness and sagacity. The methods may be rough at times, but the neat results obtained do provide satisfaction to all concerned.

On the flip side, the brand also represents cunning. An undercurrent of subterfuge often manifests itself. An excessive control over the affairs of the hapless and mentally negligible masters is a cost to be borne to avail of the service package on offer.

Residents of Plumsville often wonder as to how Jeeves, the well-known gentleman’s personal gentleman, acquired the traits that eventually made him an indispensable asset to the upper crust of English society – the art of shimmering in and out, the detailed knowledge of Debrett’s British Peerage, the knack of solving some tricky problems facing his blue-blooded masters or his pals, and, of course…

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The brand called Jeeves stands for impeccable service. It signifies delivery of results which exceed one’s expectations, that too with due respect, politeness and sagacity. The methods may be rough at times, but the neat results obtained do provide satisfaction to all concerned.

On the flip side, the brand also represents cunning. An undercurrent of subterfuge often manifests itself. An excessive control over the affairs of the hapless and mentally negligible masters is a cost to be borne to avail of the service package on offer.

Residents of Plumsville often wonder as to how Jeeves, the well-known gentleman’s personal gentleman, acquired the traits that eventually made him an indispensable asset to the upper crust of English society – the art of shimmering in and out, the detailed knowledge of Debrett’s British Peerage, the knack of solving some tricky problems facing his blue-blooded masters or his pals, and, of course, a deep understanding of the psychology of the individual.

C. Northcote Parkinson, the proponent of the famous law so very well known in management and bureaucratic circles, in his inimitable whodunit entitled Jeeves: A Gentleman’s Personal Gentleman’ (ISBN 0-312-44144-4), unravels the kind of life Reginald Jeeves led, much before we get introduced to him in the memoirs of Bertie Wooster. For good measure, he also captures for us his life in the later years.

The making of the brand Jeeves

A rolling stone gathers no moss, the wise men have said. Jeeves, with his keen intelligence and a bulky head bulging at the back, uses each of his career pit stops to acquire diverse skills. Failures do not deter him. Instead, he uses these to learn and assimilate his knowledge, to be used for any future employer who might end up needing it.

Jeeves has learnt to beware of aunts. He has learnt to move silently, hear everything and say nothing. As a page boy in an academy for young ladies, he has learnt that all girls are to be avoided as much as possible and that those with red hair are especially dangerous. He has learnt that the ideal employer must always be, and should always remain, a bachelor. He has understood the nuances of flat racing. He has realized that a gentleman’s gentleman leads a more interesting life than that of a butler. He has discovered his talent in playing bridge and poker.

The repertoire of his skill sets is vast indeed. Regrettably, the narrative is completely silent on the kind of fish Jeeves is said to be fond of.

What makes Jeeves happy?

Intense introspection has led him to conclude that his inner happiness lies in resolving a tricky situation in such a manner as to merit a hearty round of applause from all concerned. The final scene has to belong to him. While all others are bewildered and confused, he would like to walk in, offering a neat solution to the problem at hand. He must be imperturbable, dignified and conclusively right. The solution may be such as to not only solve the main problem at hand, but also tie up a couple of other loose ends as well, thereby winning a warm approval from a wider cast of actors in the play. At this stage, the curtains may fall.

His keenest pleasure is in solving problems for people whose ability fell short of his.

Looking for an ideal employer

During the course of his long career, Jeeves has found that his preference is for prosperous and reasonably but not fanatically honest men. His employer must always be a gentleman, without a passion for horses, dogs, goldfish and parrots.

Pragmatic to the core, Jeeves does not boast of exceptionally high moral principles. Instead, he places a higher premium on social standards, excellence in sartorial tastes and polite behaviour.

Glisteroll in hair he does not approve of. Dazzlo toothpaste he scoffs at. Use of Seductor after shave lotion he does not recommend. Such are his exquisite tastes.

Bunter, the man of Lord Peter Wimsey, the detective, advises Jeeves to never work for a very clever gentleman like his own employer. After all, of what use is to work for someone whom one can never hope to deceive, someone who sees through every excuse and knows every trick? One has one’s own private life to lead. One should therefore find an employer who need not be mentally handicapped but should certainly be far from clever.

By seeking an employer who is stupid – good-natured, popular, but utterly brainless – he has the great possibility of making him dependent on himself. In his career, he aspires to be a Holmes to a Dr. Watson.

According to the narrative at hand, Jeeves goes out of his way to ferret out an employer who matches his expectations. Diving deep into the exhaustive journal maintained at the Junior Ganymede Club, he comes across one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster.

For Jeeves to identify his manservant Meadows and file a complaint against him for misappropriating his employer’s socks is the work of a moment. Meadows gets the sack and a vacancy gets created.

Two days later, Jeeves calls at 6A, Crighton Mansions, Berkeley Street, W1, only to find that there is indeed a vacancy for a gentleman’s personal gentleman.

The rest, as we all know, is history.

From valeting to buttling

Bertie taking a fancy to playing the banjolele marks the beginning of a phase where he and Jeeves start drifting apart.

Whereas a butler becomes the key figure in an established household, he does miss his days of roving the world as a bachelor’s personal attendant. ‘In becoming a valet the former valet admits to himself that middle age has arrived. He is about to settle down and put on weight.’

Jeeves accepts a position with the fifth baron Chuffnell, who is struggling to maintain Chuffnell Hall with his limited means. Once the baron decides to settle down with Pauline Stoker, Jeeves moves back to Bertie, when assured that the banjolele had been burnt in a fire at the cottage.

But this turns out to be a short reunion. Soon, the master decides to go off to learning the art of mending socks and Jeeves takes up the role of a butler to William Egerton Bamfylde Ossingham Belfry, 9th Earl of Rowcester, who is struggling to stay afloat at Rowcester Abbey, a picturesque ruin subject to regular flooding. Having assisted him in resolving his problems, Jeeves tactfully gives notice.

Jeeves yearns for permanence

Followers of Plum’s narratives would recall Jeeves returning to Bertie in the role of a valet thereafter. But Parkinson would have us believe that Jeeves has by then realized that to achieve stability and permanence in life, he has to settle down in the role of a butler, but not with some impoverished nobleman. A background of solid wealth is necessary. Eventually, he decides to return to Lord Worplesdon, who is now married to the wealthy Mrs. Gregson, Bertie Wooster’s formidable Aunt Agatha.

For many years, Aunt Agatha has avoided an inner urge to ask her middle-aged nephew to walk down the aisle. Results of her last attempt to do so, when a seemingly innocent girl at Cannes had turned out to be a gangster’s moll, had proven to be highly embarrassing. This time round, however, her attention is focused on Valerie Pendlebury-Davenport. Unbeknown to her, Jeeves intervenes and saves Bertie from losing his bachelor status.

Working with Aunt Agatha needs nerves of chilled steel, something which could be trying even for someone like Jeeves. Moreover, he now goes about polishing the silver with a dwindling enthusiasm and a growing dislike of the Countess, whose dislike for him is fully reciprocated.

Eventually, he puts in his papers and starts wondering as to how to use his many talents in some other field.

Support from a dashing Bertie Wooster

Meanwhile, with the death of Sir George Wooster, the Earl of Yaxley, Bertie Wooster has inherited the family estate, Wooster Castle, which also comprises Angler’s Rest. Countess Maud Wilberforce plans to return to her previous home in East Dulwich.


Armed with a title and property, Bertie enjoys a higher degree of self-confidence. He is now a justice of the peace and can no longer afford to pinch policemen’s helmets. No longer can he be considered as one being mentally negligible.

He decides to take a walk down the aisle with one of the most famous, though dreaded, characters from the tribe of the delicately nurtured, overcoming serious objections from her mother. One would not like to play a spoil sport here and reveal the identity of the new Countess, though.

Bertie also offers Jeeves the position of a landlord at Angler’s Rest. If one were to visit it these days, one can be sure of being told by him one of the several Hollywood stories concerning the two movies he had appeared in: Little Lord Fauntleroy and The Vampire of Vitriola, both produced by Perfecto Zizzbaum. Alas, Mr Mulliner has faded slowly into the cold and darkness of the night.

Brand Jeeves: Managing bosses

The character of Jeeves has a distinctive aura of its own. It teaches us the art of managing bosses. Significantly, it also teaches us how to manage our own selves better.

A brand stands for reliability and credibility. It signifies professional excellence. It delivers satisfaction to those it serves. Jeeves qualifies to be labeled as a brand on all these fronts.

The narrative dished out by C. Northcote Parkinson reaffirms the following to be the key factors behind his success in his chosen profession:

  1. Clarity as to what he loves doing in life, and a relentless endeavour to steer his career in that direction.
  2. Using his intelligence to introspect and understand the profile of an ideal employer to suit his temperament; taking adequate steps through proper channels to zero in on such employers from time to time.
  3. A keen sense of observation which helps him to anticipate the needs of his blue-blooded employers; ensuring continued dependence of his employers on him.
  4. Being a respectful and dignified listener, speaking only when necessary.
  5. Excellent learning ability; seeking advice from those in the know of things and following the same when it matches with his own values.
  6. Leading people by appearing to be a devout follower.
  7. Cultivating a boss who would take care of one in one’s sunset years.

Managers of all hues, sizes and shapes could learn much from the brand called Jeeves. An ability to introspect and strategize. Understanding one’s own strengths and weaknesses. Making the best use of opportunities that come our way. Using our inner resources to neutralize the threats we come across. Meeting the boss, dim-wit or otherwise, half-way through. Learning from successes as well as from failures. Being open minded. Choosing the company to work for with due diligence. Commanding respect and building one’s brand equity by delivering in excess of what is expected of oneself.

Those who are not blissfully ignorant of the existence of Jeeves can belong to two schools of thought. One, those who admire Jeeves and would love to have someone like him at their disposal. Two, those who detest him and would not like someone like him controlling their lives, even if it means their having to handle the harsh slings and arrows of Fate single-handedly.

But if there were indeed a Jeeves’ Academy of Boss Management, would you not like to enroll for a course thereat, irrespective of the school of thought you happen to belong to? It might add a unique sparkle to your career graph!

Jeeves by Northcote Parkinson

The fictional biography of Jeeves whipped up by C. Northcote Parkinson supplements the Wodehouse canon beautifully. It is built around characters and events that Plum fans are already familiar with. It captures the spirit of Jeeves’ character very well.

One is left wondering as to how Monte Carlo never came up with the idea of offering a honorary citizenship to Reginald Jeeves, following the example of Meringen (Switzerland) which has honoured Sherlock Holmes thus!

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