Our grandmothers had to perform a tremendous amount of dreary drudgery in managing their homes. They were kept busy from morning ’till night, for those were the days when a woman’s work was never done. Since then, however, the machine age has come upon us, transforming the home no less surely than the factory. The modern woman enjoys a degree of leisure which her grandmother could hardly have dared to dream of. What women have done with labor-saving machinery in the home is exactly the reverse of what men have done with it in their factories and offices. The average woman is not very familiar with the complexities of economics, but she has ordered her household economy upon a more solid basis than that upon which men have arranged the affairs of their larger world. I am tempted to think that the perplexed businessman might discover a possible solution to his troubles if he would just spend a few days in his wife’s kitchen. Let us see what would happen if he did. Mr. Jones, let us say, is a modern captain of industry. Mrs. Jones is an intelligent woman who knows more than the average about economics. Mr. Jones has agreed to serve for a term as cook, maid, and household manager. “Ah, the wonders of science and modern efficiency!” he said to himself. With all these prepared ingredients, with the electric mixer and the automatically regulated gas range, I ought to be able to make 10 cakes in less time. See now, Mary, what I have done. 10 cakes! When you were running the house, we had only one, or two at most. In one day, I have revolutionized the business of cooking. The cakes were good and the family ate almost a whole one with relish. But there were still 9 left. By good salesmanship, the industrialist-turned-cook induced the family to eat another. But they had no relish for it. At this point, Mr. Jones found himself confronted with the same problem which he had to face every day in his business. He would have to sell more. Inventory would have to be reduced. Unit costs slashed. Mr. Jones coaxed, wheedled, and bribed the family to dispose of the third cake. By the time, everybody had arrived at a stage of acute discomfort and complete indifference to further entreaties. He recognized the symptoms of a saturated market. That night, the family physician kept busy, administering to varying degrees of indigestion, from mild to acute. At breakfast, Mrs. Jones said to her husband, “Of course, you realize the doctor’s fees will have to come out of your budget.” “It was all your fault.” “But I have no reserves set for that!” replied Mr. Jones. “You know that before we changed places, I always paid the doctor.” “His bills shouldn’t be charged against the household budget.” “Just the same,” said Mrs. Jones. “I’m afraid you’ll have to add it to your production costs. “The next time, you’ll know better than to glut the market.” For once, Mr. Jones had nothing to say. No one, of course, would act as foolishly in the realm of household economics as did this mythical Mr. Jones, but there are many Mr. Joneses who have acted no less foolishly in their own sphere of large-scale industry, expanding plants and piling up goods with complete disregard of market demand. I am convinced that the machine has taken something out of life. We have paid and are still paying a great price for the benefits it has given us. But it is with us to stay, and our task is to turn it to our proper need. In the machine, rightly controlled, lies the hope of reducing human drudgery to the minimum, not merely that we may be free of drudgery, but that every individual may have the opportunity for a happy life– for a leisure which may lead to mental and spiritual growth. After all, is it too much to expect that our ingenuity can reorganize our economic system to take advantage of the machines which we have created? It is largely up to the men–the statesmen and the captains of industry. And if they are unable to accomplish the task, we women shall have to send them into the kitchen for a few lessons in common-sense economics.