I have a folder in my private filing cabinet marked “FTD”—short for “Fool Things I Have Done”. I put in that folder writtenrecords of the fools things I have been guilty of. I sometimesdictate these memos to my secretary， but sometimes they are sopersonal， so stupid， that I am ashamed to dictate them， so I writethem out in longhand.
I can still recall some of the criticisms of Dale Carnegie thatI put in my “FTD” folders fifteen years ago. If I had been utterlyhonest with myself， I would now have a filing cabinet bursting outat the seams with these “FTD” memos.
When I get out my “FTD” folders and re-read the criticismsI have written of myself， they help me deal with the toughestproblem I shall ever face： the management of Dale Carnegie. Iused to blame my troubles on other people； but as I have grownolder—and wiser， I hope—I have realised that I myself， in thelast analysis， am to blame for almost all my misfortunes. Lotsof people have discovered that， as they grow older. “No one butmyself，” said Napoleon at St. Helena， “no one but myself can beblamed for my fall. I have been my own greatest enemy-the causeof my own disastrous fate.”
Let me tell you about a man I know who was an artist when itcame to self-appraisal and selfmanagement. His name was H. P.
Howell. When the news of his sudden death in the drugstore ofthe Hotel Ambassador in New York was flashed across the nationon July 31， 1944， Wall Street was shocked， for he was a leader in American finance—chairman of the board of the CommercialNational Bank and Trust Company， 56 Wall Street， and a director ofseveral large corporations. He grew up with little formal education，started out in life clerking in a country store， and later became creditmanager for U. S. Steel—and was on his way to position and power.
“For years I have kept an engagement book showing all theappointments I have during the day，” Mr. Howell told me when Iasked him to explain the reasons for his success. “My family nevermakes any plans for me on Saturday night， for the family knowsthat I devote a part of each Saturday evening to self-examinationand a review and appraisal of my work during the week. Afterdinner I go off by myself， open my engagement book， and thinkover all the interviews， discussions and meetings that have takenplace since Monday morning. I ask myself： ‘What mistakes didI make that time？’ ‘What did I do that was right—and in whatway could I have improved my performance？’ ‘What lessons canI learn from that experience？’ I sometimes find that this weeklyreview makes me very unhappy. Sometimes I am astonished bymy own blunders. Of course， as the years have gone by， theseblunders have become less frequent. This system of self-analysis，continued year after year， has done more for me than any otherone thing I have ever attempted.”
Maybe H. P. Howell borrowed his idea from Ben Franklin.
Only Franklin didn’t wait until Saturday night. He gave himself asevere going-over every night. He discovered that he had thirteenserious faults. Here are three of them： wasting time， stewingaround over trifles， arguing and contradicting people. Wise oldBen Franklin realised that， unless he eliminated these handicaps，he wasn’t going to get very far. So he battled with one of hisshortcomings every day for a week， and kept a record of who hadwon each day’s slugging match. The next day， he would pick out another bad habit， put on the gloves， and when the bell rang hewould come out of his corner fighting. Franklin kept up this battlewith his faults every week for more than two years.
No wonder he became one of the best-loved and mostinfluential men America ever produced！
Elbert Hubbard said： “Every man is a damn fool for at least fiveminutes every day. Wisdom consists in not exceeding that limit.”
The small man flies into a rage over the slightest criticism， butthe wise man is eager to learn from those who have censured himand reproved him and “disputed the passage with him”.
