The Cause of Drug Abuse Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words - 1

The Cause of Drug Abuse - Essay Example Additionally, it is possible to treat drug addiction and enable people to go back to their normal lives. Drug addiction can be considered as a chronic disease that causes obsessive behavior in spite of the negative consequences to the individual and those around them. It leads to changes in the structure and functioning of the brain (Allen 67). Many individuals indulge in drug abuse voluntarily at first, and lose self control overtime, thus negatively influencing their lifestyle. Some root causes of drug abuse include curiosity, exposure to drug addiction from media and friends, genetic predisposition to addiction, lack of self-esteem and depression. According to a famous saying, â€Å"curiosity killed the cat.† This is true in the case of drug abuse (Lowinson 48). People addicted to drugs are curious about its effect on them. They think that drugs can be so much fun. With it, they can be someone else because they can do things they cannot do when they are not under the influence of drugs. The media serves as one of the most influential factors to the way people behave nowadays. According to Castillo (48), the media portrays drug abuse as similar to being cool. For instance, pop artists who have the most number of fans are those who look or were reported to be drug users (e.g., Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, etc. Conversely, there are a few people who can serve as role models in the contemporary society. Peer pressure is also among the leading causes of drug abuse in the contemporary society (Lowinson 48). This is especially true for young people who use drugs to feel cool, fit in a certain group and impress their friends. For example, if one’s friends smoke marijuana or engage in alcoholism, there is a big chance that the person will take part in similar behavior just to be accepted. Peer pressure is the urge to do what one’s friends are doing is very common among teenagers who are desperate to impress their friends and be accepted in a

Hawthorne Essays -- essays research papers

Nathaniel Hawthorne is considered to be one of the most substantial writers of his time. His most famous novel, The Scarlet Letter truly originated Hawthorn’s version of romantic writing. It was this novel that also originated Hawthorne’s fame. Most of his works deal with or have some relation to Puritan times. The reason for the familiarity in his works is due to the fact that it seems to be influenced by his own Puritan ancestry. It was not until late in Hawthorne’s life that he received recognition. To do this Hawthorne had to change his name and found his own stlye of writing that pertained to his life experiances. His romantic style might have been too modern for the times, but eventually he was understood.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Hawthorne was known for his ability to create such a compelling story in just a few pages. Within these few pages, flows an elaborate and complex story. These stories flow so steadily and with such complexity that Hawthorne seems to create his own romantic style. He does this by incooperateing many different situations that keep the reader intuned to the story.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In many of his short stories there seems to be a character that is infatuated with a person or an object. The reason for Hawthorne creating stories like this could stem from his own experience with infactuation. Hawthorne was a very lonley person. He lived by himself for a long time until he married later in life. In t...

A Game of Thrones Chapter Sixty-five

Arya The scent of hot bread drifting from the shops along the Street of Flour was sweeter than any perfume Arya had ever smelled. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the pigeon. It was a plump one, speckled brown, busily pecking at a crust that had fallen between two cobblestones, but when Arya's shadow touched it, it took to the air. Her stick sword whistled out and caught it two feet off the ground, and it went down in a flurry of brown feathers. She was on it in the blink of an eye, grabbing a wing as the pigeon flapped and fluttered. It pecked at her hand. She grabbed its neck and twisted until she felt the bone snap. Compared with catching cats, pigeons were easy. A passing septon was looking at her askance. â€Å"Here's the best place to find pigeon,† Arya told him as she brushed herself off and picked up her fallen stick sword. â€Å"They come for the crumbs.† He hurried away. She tied the pigeon to her belt and started down the street. A man was pushing a load of tarts by on a two-wheeled cart; the smells sang of blueberries and lemons and apricots. Her stomach made a hollow rumbly noise. â€Å"Could I have one?† she heard herself say. â€Å"A lemon, or . . . or any kind.† The pushcart man looked her up and down. Plainly he did not like what he saw. â€Å"Three coppers.† Arya tapped her wooden sword against the side of her boot. â€Å"I'll trade you a fat pigeon,† she said. â€Å"The Others take your pigeon,† the pushcart man said. The tarts were still warm from the oven. The smells were making her mouth water, but she did not have three coppers . . . or one. She gave the pushcart man a look, remembering what Syrio had told her about seeing. He was short, with a little round belly, and when he moved he seemed to favor his left leg a little. She was just thinking that if she snatched a tart and ran he would never be able to catch her when he said, â€Å"You be keepin' your filthy hands off. The gold cloaks know how to deal with thieving little gutter rats, that they do.† Arya glanced warily behind her. Two of the City Watch were standing at the mouth of an alley. Their cloaks hung almost to the ground, the heavy wool dyed a rich gold; their mail and boots and gloves were black. One wore a longsword at his hip, the other an iron cudgel. With a last wistful glance at the tarts, Arya edged back from the cart and hurried off. The gold cloaks had not been paying her any special attention, but the sight of them tied her stomach in knots. Arya had been staying as far from the castle as she could get, yet even from a distance she could see the heads rotting atop the high red walls. Flocks of crows squabbled noisily over each head, thick as flies. The talk in Flea Bottom was that the gold cloaks had thrown in with the Lannisters, their commander raised to a lord, with lands on the Trident and a seat on the king's council. She had also heard other things, scary things, things that made no sense to her. Some said her father had murdered King Robert and been slain in turn by Lord Renly. Others insisted that Renly had killed the king in a drunken quarrel between brothers. Why else should he have fled in the night like a common thief? One story said the king had been killed by a boar while hunting, another that he'd died eating a boar, stuffing himself so full that he'd ruptured at the table. No, the king had died at table, others said, but only because Varys the Spider poisoned him. No, it had been the queen who poisoned him. No, he had died of a pox. No, he had choked on a fish bone. One thing all the stories agreed on: King Robert was dead. The bells in the seven towers of the Great Sept of Baelor had tolled for a day and a night, the thunder of their grief rolling across the city in a bronze tide. They only rang the bells like that for the death of a king, a tanner's boy told Arya. All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on . . . well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named. Every day since her escape from the Red Keep, Arya had visited each of the seven city gates in turn. The Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, and the Old Gate were closed and barred. The Mud Gate and the Gate of the Gods were open, but only to those who wanted to enter the city; the guards let no one out. Those who were allowed to leave left by the King's Gate or the Iron Gate, but Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms manned the guard posts there. Spying down from the roof of an inn by the King's Gate, Arya saw them searching wagons and carriages, forcing riders to open their saddlebags, and questioning everyone who tried to pass on foot. Sometimes she thought about swimming the river, but the Blackwater Rush was wide and deep, and everyone agreed that its currents were wicked and treacherous. She had no coin to pay a ferryman or take passage on a ship. Her lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why. If she did not get out soon, she would have to take her chances with the gold cloaks. She hadn't gone hungry much since she learned to knock down birds with her stick sword, but she feared so much pigeon was making her sick. A couple she'd eaten raw, before she found Flea Bottom. In the Bottom there were pot-shops along the alleys where huge tubs of stew had been simmering for years, and you could trade half your bird for a heel of yesterday's bread and a â€Å"bowl o' brown,† and they'd even stick the other half in the fire and crisp it up for you, so long as you plucked the feathers yourself. Arya would have given anything for a cup of milk and a lemon cake, but the brown wasn't so bad. It usually had barley in it, and chunks of carrot and onion and turnip, and sometimes even apple, with a film of grease swimming on top. Mostly she tried not to think about the meat. Once she had gotten a piece of fish. The only thing was, the pot-shops were never empty, and even as she bolted down her food, Arya could feel them watching. Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak, and she knew what they were thinking. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn't know what they were thinking, and that scared her even more. A couple times, she was followed out into the alleys and chased, but so far no one had been able to catch her. The silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes, snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword . . . and Needle. She'd been lying on top of Needle, or else it would have been gone too; it was worth more than all the rest together. Since then Arya had taken to walking around with her cloak draped over her right arm, to conceal the blade at her hip. The wooden sword she carried in her left hand, out where everybody could see it, to scare off robbers, but there were men in the pot-shops who wouldn't have been scared off if she'd had a battle-axe. It was enough to make her lose her taste for pigeon and stale bread. Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares. Once she was outside the city, she would find berries to pick, or orchards she might raid for apples and cherries. Arya remembered seeing some from the kingsroad on the journey south. And she could dig for roots in the forest, even run down some rabbits. In the city, the only things to run down were rats and cats and scrawny dogs. The potshops would give you a fistful of coppers for a litter of pups, she'd heard, but she didn't like to think about that. Down below the Street of Flour was a maze of twisting alleys and cross streets. Arya scrambled through the crowds, trying to put distance between her and the gold cloaks. She had learned to keep to the center of the street. Sometimes she had to dodge wagons and horses, but at least you could see them coming. If you walked near the buildings, people grabbed you. In some alleys you couldn't help but brush against the walls; the buildings leaned in so close they almost met. A whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she'd played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She would have given anything if Jon had been here to call her â€Å"little sister† and muss her hair. Not that it needed mussing. She'd seen her reflection in puddles, and she didn't think hair got any more mussed than hers. She had tried talking to the children she saw in the street, hoping to make a friend who would give her a place to sleep, but she must have talked wrong or something. The little ones only looked at her with quick, wary eyes and ran away if she came too close. Their big brothers and sisters asked questions Arya couldn't answer, called her names, and tried to steal from her. Only yesterday, a scrawny barefoot girl twice her age had knocked her down and tried to pull the boots off her feet, but Arya gave her a crack on her ear with her stick sword that sent her off sobbing and bleeding. A gull wheeled overhead as she made her way down the hill toward Flea Bottom. Arya glanced at it thoughtfully, but it was well beyond the reach of her stick. It made her think of the sea. Maybe that was the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. She decided to visit the riverfront. It was on the way to the Mud Gate anyway, and she hadn't checked that one today. The wharfs were oddly quiet when Arya got there. She spied another pair of gold cloaks, walking side by side through the fish market, but they never so much as looked at her. Half the stalls were empty, and it seemed to her that there were fewer ships at dock than she remembered. Out on the Blackwater, three of the king's war galleys moved in formation, gold-painted hulls splitting the water as their oars rose and fell. Arya watched them for a bit, then began to make her way along the river. When she saw the guardsmen on the third pier, in grey woolen cloaks trimmed with white satin, her heart almost stopped in her chest. The sight of Winterfell's colors brought tears to her eyes. Behind them, a sleek three-banked trading galley rocked at her moorings. Arya could not read the name painted on the hull; the words were strange, Myrish, Braavosi, perhaps even High Valyrian. She grabbed a passing longshoreman by the sleeve. â€Å"Please,† she said, â€Å"what ship is this?† â€Å"She's the Wind Witch, out of Myr,† the man said. â€Å"She's still here,† Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home . . . still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago. Two of the guardsmen were dicing together while the third walked rounds, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Ashamed to let them see her crying like a baby, she stopped to rub at her eyes. Her eyes her eyes her eyes, why did . . . Look with your eyes, she heard Syrio whisper. Arya looked. She knew all of her father's men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. â€Å"You,† the one walking rounds called out. â€Å"What do you want here, boy?† The other two looked up from their dice. It was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her at once. She made herself walk closer. They were looking for a girl, but he thought she was a boy. She'd be a boy, then. â€Å"Want to buy a pigeon?† She showed him the dead bird. â€Å"Get out of here,† the guardsman said. Arya did as he told her. She did not have to pretend to be frightened. Behind her, the men went back to their dice. She could not have said how she got back to Flea Bottom, but she was breathing hard by the time she reached the narrow crooked unpaved streets between the hills. The Bottom had a stench to it, a stink of pigsties and stables and tanner's sheds, mixed in with the sour smell of winesinks and cheap whorehouses. Arya wound her way through the maze dully. It was not until she caught a whiff of bubbling brown coming through a pot-shop door that she realized her pigeon was gone. It must have slipped from her belt as she ran, or someone had stolen it and she'd never noticed. For a moment she wanted to cry again. She'd have to walk all the way back to the Street of Flour to find another one that plump. Far across the city, bells began to ring. Arya glanced up, listening, wondering what the ringing meant this time. â€Å"What's this now?† a fat man called from the pot-shop. â€Å"The bells again, gods ha'mercy,† wailed an old woman. A red-haired whore in a wisp of painted silk pushed open a second-story window. â€Å"Is it the boy king that's died now?† she shouted down, leaning out over the street. â€Å"Ah, that's a boy for you, they never last long.† As she laughed, a naked man slid his arms around her from behind, biting her neck and rubbing the heavy white breasts that hung loose beneath her shift. â€Å"Stupid slut,† the fat man shouted up. â€Å"The king's not dead, that's only summoning bells. One tower tolling. When the king dies, they ring every bell in the city.† â€Å"Here, quit your biting, or I'll ring your bells,† the woman in the window said to the man behind her, pushing him off with an elbow. â€Å"So who is it died, if not the king?† â€Å"It's a summoning,† the fat man repeated. Two boys close to Arya's age scampered past, splashing through a puddle. The old woman cursed them, but they kept right on going. Other people were moving too, heading up the hill to see what the noise was about. Arya ran after the slower boy. â€Å"Where you going?† she shouted when she was right behind him. â€Å"What's happening?† He glanced back without slowing. â€Å"The gold cloaks is carryin' him to the sept.† â€Å"Who?† she yelled, running hard. â€Å"The Hand! They'll be taking his head off, Buu says.† A passing wagon had left a deep rut in the street. The boy leapt over, but Arya never saw it. She tripped and fell, face first, scraping her knee open on a stone and smashing her fingers when her hands hit the hard-packed earth. Needle tangled between her legs. She sobbed as she struggled to her knees. The thumb of her left hand was covered with blood. When she sucked on it, she saw that half the thumbnail was gone, ripped off in her fall. Her hands throbbed, and her knee was all bloody too. â€Å"Make way!† someone shouted from the cross street. â€Å"Make way for my lords of Redwyne!† It was all Arya could do to get out of the road before they ran her down, four guardsmen on huge horses, pounding past at a gallop. They wore checked cloaks, blue-and-burgundy. Behind them, two young lordlings rode side by side on a pair of chestnut mares alike as peas in a pod. Arya had seen them in the bailey a hundred times; the Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely youths with orange hair and square, freckled faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror and Ser Slobber, and giggle whenever they caught sight of them. They did not look funny now. Everyone was moving in the same direction, all in a hurry to see what the ringing was all about. The bells seemed louder now, clanging, calling. Arya joined the stream of people. Her thumb hurt so bad where the nail had broken that it was all she could do not to cry. She bit her lip as she limped along, listening to the excited voices around her. â€Å"—the King's Hand, Lord Stark. They're carrying him up to Baelor's Sept.† â€Å"I heard he was dead.† â€Å"Soon enough, soon enough. Here, I got me a silver stag says they lop his head off.† â€Å"Past time, the traitor.† The man spat. Arya struggled to find a voice. â€Å"He never—† she started, but she was only a child and they talked right over her. â€Å"Fool! They ain't neither going to lop him. Since when do they knick traitors on the steps of the Great Sept?† â€Å"Well, they don't mean to anoint him no knight. I heard it was Stark killed old King Robert. Slit his throat in the woods, and when they found him, he stood there cool as you please and said it was some old boar did for His Grace.† â€Å"Ah, that's not true, it was his own brother did him, that Renly, him with his gold antlers.† â€Å"You shut your lying mouth, woman. You don't know what you're saying, his lordship's a fine true man.† By the time they reached the Street of the Sisters, they were packed in shoulder to shoulder. Arya let the human current carry her along, up to the top of Visenya's Hill. The white marble plaza was a solid mass of people, all yammering excitedly at each other and straining to get closer to the Great Sept of Baelor. The bells were very loud here. Arya squirmed through the press, ducking between the legs of horses and clutching tight to her sword stick. From the middle of the crowd, all she could see were arms and legs and stomachs, and the seven slender towers of the sept looming overhead. She spotted a wood wagon and thought to climb up on the back where she might be able to see, but others had the same idea. The teamster cursed at them and drove them off with a crack of his whip. Arya grew frantic. Forcing her way to the front of the crowd, she was shoved up against the stone of a plinth. She looked up at Baelor the Blessed, the septon king. Sliding her stick sword through her belt, Arya began to climb. Her broken thumbnail left smears of blood on the painted marble, but she made it up, and wedged herself in between the king's feet. That was when she saw her father. Lord Eddard stood on the High Septon's pulpit outside the doors of the sept, supported between two of the gold cloaks. He was dressed in a rich grey velvet doublet with a white wolf sewn on the front in beads, and a grey wool cloak trimmed with fur, but he was thinner than Arya had ever seen him, his long face drawn with pain. He was not standing so much as being held up; the cast over his broken leg was grey and rotten. The High Septon himself stood behind him, a squat man, grey with age and ponderously fat, wearing long white robes and an immense crown of spun gold and crystal that wreathed his head with rainbows whenever he moved. Clustered around the doors of the sept, in front of the raised marble pulpit, were a knot of knights and high lords. Joffrey was prominent among them, his raiment all crimson, silk and satin patterned with prancing stags and roaring lions, a gold crown on his head. His queen mother stood beside him in a black mourning gown slashed with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. Arya recognized the Hound, wearing a snowy white cloak over his dark grey armor, with four of the Kingsguard around him. She saw Varys the eunuch gliding among the lords in soft slippers and a patterned damask robe, and she thought the short man with the silvery cape and pointed beard might be the one who had once fought a duel for Mother. And there in their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed and curled and silver bracelets on her wrists. Arya scowled, wondering what her sister was doing here, why she looked so happy. A long line of gold-cloaked spearmen held back the crowd, commanded by a stout man in elaborate armor, all black lacquer and gold filigree. His cloak had the metallic shimmer of true cloth-of-gold. When the bell ceased to toll, a quiet slowly settled across the great plaza, and her father lifted his head and began to speak, his voice so thin and weak she could scarcely make him out. People behind her began to shout out, â€Å"What?† and â€Å"Louder!† The man in the black-and-gold armor stepped up behind Father and prodded him sharply. You leave him alone! Arya wanted to shout, but she knew no one would listen. She chewed her lip. Her father raised his voice and began again. â€Å"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King,† he said more loudly, his voice carrying across the plaza, â€Å"and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men.† â€Å"No,† Arya whimpered. Below her, the crowd began to scream and shout. Taunts and obscenities filled the air. Sansa had hidden her face in her hands. Her father raised his voice still higher, straining to be heard. â€Å"I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert,† he shouted. â€Å"I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.† A stone came sailing out of the crowd. Arya cried out as she saw her father hit. The gold cloaks kept him from falling. Blood ran down his face from a deep gash across his forehead. More stones followed. One struck the guard to Father's left. Another went clanging off the breastplate of the knight in the black-and-gold armor. Two of the Kingsguard stepped in front of Joffrey and the queen, protecting them with their shields. Her hand slid beneath her cloak and found Needle in its sheath. She tightened her fingers around the grip, squeezing as hard as she had ever squeezed anything. Please, gods, keep him safe, she prayed. Don't let them hurt my father. The High Septon knelt before Joffrey and his mother. â€Å"As we sin, so do we suffer,† he intoned, in a deep swelling voice much louder than Father's. â€Å"This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men, here in this holy place.† Rainbows danced around his head as he lifted his hands in entreaty. â€Å"The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?† A thousand voices were screaming, but Arya never heard them. Prince Joffrey . . . no, King Joffrey . . . stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. â€Å"My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father.† He looked straight at Sansa then, and smiled, and for a moment Arya thought that the gods had heard her prayer, until Joffrey turned back to the crowd and said, â€Å"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!† The crowd roared, and Arya felt the statue of Baelor rock as they surged against it. The High Septon clutched at the king's cape, and Varys came rushing over waving his arms, and even the queen was saying something to him, but Joffrey shook his head. Lords and knights moved aside as he stepped through, tall and fleshless, a skeleton in iron mail, the King's Justice. Dimly, as if from far off, Arya heard her sister scream. Sansa had fallen to her knees, sobbing hysterically. Ser Ilyn Payne climbed the steps of the pulpit. Arya wriggled between Baelor's feet and threw herself into the crowd, drawing Needle. She landed on a man in a butcher's apron, knocking him to the ground. Immediately someone slammed into her back and she almost went down herself. Bodies closed in around her, stumbling and pushing, trampling on the poor butcher. Arya slashed at them with Needle. High atop the pulpit, Ser Ilyn Payne gestured and the knight in black-and-gold gave a command. The gold cloaks flung Lord Eddard to the marble, with his head and chest out over the edge. â€Å"Here, you!† an angry voice shouted at Arya, but she bowled past, shoving people aside, squirming between them, slamming into anyone in her way. A hand fumbled at her leg and she hacked at it, kicked at shins. A woman stumbled and Arya ran up her back, cutting to both sides, but it was no good, no good, there were too many people, no sooner did she make a hole than it closed again. Someone buffeted her aside. She could still hear Sansa screaming. Ser Ilyn drew a two-handed greatsword from the scabbard on his back. As he lifted the blade above his head, sunlight seemed to ripple and dance down the dark metal, glinting off an edge sharper than any razor. Ice, she thought, he has Ice! Her tears streamed down her face, blinding her. And then a hand shot out of the press and closed round her arm like a wolf trap, so hard that Needle went flying from her hand. Arya was wrenched off her feet. She would have fallen if he hadn't held her up, as easy as if she were a doll. A face pressed close to hers, long black hair and tangled beard and rotten teeth. â€Å"Don't look!† a thick voice snarled at her. â€Å"I . . . I . . . I . . . † Arya sobbed. The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. â€Å"Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy.† Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a . . . a noise . . . a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once. The old man's fingers dug into her arm, stiff as iron. â€Å"Look at me. Yes, that's the way of it, at me.† Sour wine perfumed his breath. â€Å"Remember, boy?† It was the smell that did it. Arya saw the matted greasy hair, the patched, dusty black cloak that covered his twisted shoulders, the hard black eyes squinting at her. And she remembered the black brother who had come to visit her father. â€Å"Know me now, do you? There's a bright boy.† He spat. â€Å"They're done here. You'll be coming with me, and you'll be keeping your mouth shut.† When she started to reply, he shook her again, even harder. â€Å"Shut, I said.† The plaza was beginning to empty. The press dissolved around them as people drifted back to their lives. But Arya's life was gone. Numb, she trailed along beside . . . Yoren, yes, his name is Yoren. She did not recall him finding Needle, until he handed the sword back to her. â€Å"Hope you can use that, boy.† â€Å"I'm not—† she started. He shoved her into a doorway, thrust dirty fingers through her hair, and gave it a twist, yanking her head back. â€Å"—not a smart boy, that what you mean to say?† He had a knife in his other hand. As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears.

Employees motivation - Free Essay Example

Sample details Pages: 7 Words: 2068 Downloads: 4 Date added: 2017/06/26 Category Management Essay Type Analytical essay Did you like this example? Money, motivation and performance EXECUTIVE SUMMARY This report aims to evaluate the statement: ‘the way to motivate employees is to pay them as much as they want. It will review through several researches and counterpoints of money and motivating factors. By discussing and evaluating them, the report would have its approach to different perspectives on employees motivation and performance. Don’t waste time! Our writers will create an original "Employees motivation" essay for you Create order The findings discovered different points and counter points on money as a motivation factor. These points also lead to different motivation theories which are the Maslow hierarchy of needs theory, the two factors theory, and the equity theory. Firstly, money seems to be the most important factor in motivating people. After a few decades, as the economy have its transformation and more studies and theories were conducted, the idea of motivating employees also altered by both businesses and scholars. However, none of these studies support the statement that paying employees as much as they want will motivate them to perform. It is clear that money has certain role motivating employees performance and influence in most of the studies of motivation. Different researches and different theories were developed on this field, but none of them support the idea of motivating employees by paying them â€Å"as much as they want†. It is more reasonable to set up the payment base on e mployees need, performance and equity than paying as much as employees want. 1 Introduction 1.1 Background Work performance can be defined as the level efficiency and effectiveness of a persons actions, while motivation can be described as a ‘driving force within individuals by which they attempt to achieve some goals in order to satisfy some need or expectations (Amaratunga Baldry, 2002, p. 328). From the past few decades employers have had a need to understand what motivates their employees to do their best work. It can be explained by the growing and more competitive economy, in which businesses try to get the best productivity from the human resources of their organisation (Wiley, 1997). Follow (Amaratunga Baldry, 2002), the report would assume performance as motivational determinant because of the essential influence of motivation on performance. 1.2 Aim The purpose of this report is to discuss about employees motivation. Focusing on the financial factors, it will reveal whether paying employees as much as they want will motivate them to perform. In addition, the report would discuss on different motivation theories. 1.3 Scope It firstly discusses about studies that identify money as a motivation factor, and then evaluates the counterpoints. Additionally report will go over different motivational theories that regard to money. These theories will display different perspective of money as a motivating factor. 2 Motivation-performance 2.1 Money as a motivational factor There have been numerous surveys revealed that money is one of the top factors that motivate people in the past few decades. Wiley (1997) reviewed that 40 years of motivation surveys in the U.S showed number one of the top five motivational factors ranked by the respondents is good wages. The analysis additionally concluded that pay or good wages is valued by all employees regardless of their gender, occupation, and income or employment status. The analysis also explained money ability to satisfy needs of various levels on Maslows Hierarchy of needs (section 2.3.1). Money allow people to purchasing items not only to satisfy their psychological and safety need such as food or shelter, but also cover higher-order needs such as the need of esteem. On the other side of the Atlantic Series of research on Europeans business during the 1980s and 1990s that detected a strong relationship between performance and pay. From Institute of Personnel and Development (1998), cited in Brown Armstrong (1999), 74% of employees responded to improve their performance after the business using the performance-related pay (Brown Armstrong, 1999). Both studies revised that money certainly is the motivation factor, but it appeared that money motivate employees more by satisfied what they need, not by paying the ammount that they want. 2.2 Counterpoints Eventhough the importance of money is undeniable as a motivating factor. There are also several researches questioning the role of a good wage. In (Wiley, 1997) the survey â€Å"factors that motivate me† in 1992 revealed that most people see money as the main motivation for their work. But also there are two groups that did not rank money as their first in their 1992 survey: the high income group (50000$) and group of ages over 55. The group of high income employees rank good wage as their fifth most motivated factor, while the group of ages over 55 rank good wages as their second most important factors. Although the article did not discuss much about these two groups because of the insignificant difference of data in the analysis, there seems to be a trace that employees motivating factors were changing regard to the economy and especially employees income. Average income of the United States, from 1992, at the time the survey reviewed by Wiley, (1997) has significantly changed. According to (Saez, 2004) average income (including capital gain) of the U.S at the time of 1992 was 42 940 USD, but in 2004 it increased to 50820 USD. The data show that if the survey in 1992 classified employees who have their wages more than 50 000 USD as â€Å"high income†, then in 2004 the same wage of 50 000 USD would be considered â€Å"average income† (see figure 1). The change of income appeared to effect employees view of motivation factors. Herzberg ( 2003) confirmed a change of how employees are motivated from the previous decades. The research presents the factor of good salary only contribute less than 8% to job satisfaction while a bad salary cause about 10% to job dissatisfaction (see figure 2). The article concluded salary was one of the Hygiene Factors, which contribute more as job dissatisfaction factor. It is always important for employers to understand that employees also need other motivation besides a good wage. 2.3 Motivation theories and money 2.3.1 The Maslows hierarchy of needs theory The theory was used to explain the result of the 1992 survey in Wiley( 1997). Maslow theorized that every human being has five needs: Physiological needs, Safety needs, Social needs, Esteem needs, and self-actualisation needs (Rossiter, 2009). Wiley(1997), conluded that the ability of money covers from the level of physiological needs to esteem needs. * Physiological needs: these needs relate to life necessity such as food, shelter, and clothing. These needs can be satisfied mostly with money earn from work * Safety needs: these need not only describe the context without physical danger, but also include a general comfort and security. These needs can be also be assure by a regular pay check; * Social needs: these needs include human needs of relationship and acceptance. In this level of needs, money appeared to play a more supporting and less tangible role of purchased items than the main factor compare to physiological and safety need * Esteem needs: these need involv e with respect and admiration. In this level of needs, money contributes by purchasing high value items, and being recognised by its value of pride more than financial value. * Self-actualisation needs: these need include self-improvement, growth, and achievement. The theory identified the role of a good wage is to satisfy various needs, but there was none recommendation that employees should be paid as they want. Even though the theory had no support and was not considered as a contemporary theory, it is wide known and remained popular because of its simplicity and certain application in psychology and business study (Robbins et al, 2008). 2.3.2 Two-factor theory Mentioned as a counterpoint to the view of money motivating factor in the previous 2.2 section, Herzberg (2003), not only contributed research on motivational factor, the article also proposed the Two-factor theory. The theory suggested a separation between the factors that cause job satisfaction from those factors that create job dissatisfaction. In other words, the data suggest that opposite with â€Å"satisfaction† is not â€Å"dissatisfaction† but â€Å"no satisfaction† and therefore opposite of â€Å"dissatisfaction† is not satisfaction but â€Å"no dissatisfaction†. The theory also characterised various work factors into two groups: hygiene factors and intrinsic motivators (see figure 2). * The hygiene factors, such as administration, salary and work condition, is considered is to make employees work more comfortable, rather than motivate them * Motivators are the factors that really motivate employees, such as achievement, recognition and the work itself. As mentioned in the previous section, salary was measured as a hygiene factor, which means that a bad wage causes job dissatisfaction, while a good wage rather comforts the employees than motivates them. Paying as much as an employee wants, according to the theory, will not motivate employees to perform. Additionally, Herzberg, in his study, recommended motivating employees with job enrichment. He stated at the beginning of the study â€Å"Forget praise. Forget punishment. Forget cash. You need to make their jobs more interesting† (Herzberg, 2003). Like Maslows theory, Herzberg studies was not supported and considered a contemporary theory of work motivation. Despite all criticisms, the theory is well-known and has great influence to business managers and scholars. (Robbins et al, 2001) 2.3.3 Equity theory A more contemporary and pay-related theory developed by Stacy Adams, in general, the theory believe that individuals motivations are provided by the inequity between their job inputs(effort, experience, education, and competence) and outcomes ( salary levels, raises, recognition) with others. Employees can compare themselves to friends, co-worker, neighbours, or past job and position they have. Those comparisons can be grouped into four types 1. Self-inside: the comparison between different position inside ones organisation 2. Self-outside: the comparison between positions outside ones organisation 3. Other-inside: the comparison to another individual or group inside ones organisation 4. Other-outside: the comparison to another individual or group outside ones organisation When employees recognised inequity, the theory predicts they could make six choices: 1. Change their inputs 2. Change their outcomes 3. Change perceptions of self 4. Change perception o f others 5. Choose a different referent 6. Leave the field. Regard to payment, the theory also proposed: * Given payment by time, over-rewarded employees will produce more than fairly paid employees. Hourly and salaried employees tend to increase their input side to bring back equity with the increased outcome * Given payment by time, under-rewarded employees will produce less or poorer output. Hourly and salaried employees tend to decrease their input to create equity with the decreased outcome. * Given payment by quantity of production, over-reward employees will produce quantity but more quality work unit. * Given payment by quantity of production, under-reward employees will produce more quantity but less quality work unit. The theory concluded that for most employees, motivation is influenced by reward. It is important for employee not only how much a business pay for him or her, but also the amount other employees got paid. It also suggested that money has symbolic value in addition to its financial values. Both under-paying and over-paying will have certain effect o n employers performance (Robbins et al, 2001). The theory generally recommended the motivating amount of payment should base on equity, not as much as employees want. .Even though the theory had been developed originally decades ago; it is stilled validated by different researches despite the changing social and economic values (Shore, 2004). 3 Conclusion Different perspectives and concepts about money and motivation have been developed during last couple of decades. In regards to the changing economy, more and larger study on the field of organisational work motivation was conducted. Answering the question: whether paying employees as much as they want would motivate them to perform? This report suggests ‘no. After reviewing several studies and theory, the report recommend that in order to get better performance from employees, their payment should be based on employees need, performance, and equity rather than paying employees â€Å"as much as they want†. References Amaratunga, D., Baldry, D. 2002. Performance measurment in facililities management and its relationships with management theory and motivation. Volume:20 Issue:10 , pp. 327-336.Retreived from Emerald database Brown, D., Armstrong, M. 1999. Paying for contribution. London: Kogan Page Limited. Herzberg, F. 2003. One More Time: How Do You Motivate Employees? Issue of January 2003 , pp. 1-10. Robbins, S., Judge, T., Millet, B., Waters-Marsh, T. 2008 Organisational Behaviour. French Forest: Pearson. Robbins, S., Millett, B., Cacioppe, R., Waters-Marsh, T. 2001. Organisational Behavior. French Forest: Pearson. Rossiter, A. P. 2009. Why We Work: Maslow on the job. Vol. 105, Iss. 2 , p. 60. Retreived from Proquest database Saez, E. 2004. Average Income of The U.S from 1914 to 2004. Retrieved 2009, from https://elsa.berkeley.edu/~saez/TabFig2006.xls Shore, T. H. 2004. Equity sensitivity theory: Do we all want more than we deserve? Vol: 19; Iss: 7 , pp. 722 728. Ret reived from Emerald database Wiley, C. 1997. 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