Through the winter into the spring breakup time, I worked at whatever employment paid the highest wages, giving my best effort which only tended to get me involved, because my employer did not always see fit to have me leave. Generally, I was offered a liberal bonus, the promise of quick promotion: all ensnaring attributes that the conventional world has set up to control life form womb to tomb.
But the challenge of the wild was too strong.
Reaction to my leaving employment periodically for wilderness travel and leisure was destined at times to become a serious difficulty. But I must not overlook the magnanimously spirited owners of industry who patted me on the back and with a bon voyage said, "When you come back from your trip, drop in, and we'll try to find something for you to do." I might sensibly forget those who lectured me severely. One such employer told me that I was "hitting below the belt" in leaving at a busy season. "Only a worthless bum would work just long enough to get a grubstake," he said. As a parting shot I quoted Thoreau, that only a fool devoted more time to industry than was necessary. He found no ready answer for Thoreau.
The worst was from an employer who rose from his swivel chair, leaned angrily over his desk, and gave me departing words as I was about to pass from his office. Shaking his fist, he said, "I'll blackball you so that you won't get a job in this city as long as you live!"
I turned in the doorway and answered, "You mean you will do this and expect to stay alive?" He froze, paused for a moment and threatened to call the police. I suggested he call the press too, for a good story on executive ability.