When I found that Blissam was ahead of me, notwithstanding my being out so early, I felt as if I should be glad to get away from him as soon as I could. He was altogether too numerous for me. He had told me he wasn't going to cut prices, and I was very sure I did not want to do it, but I made up my mind I was going to get my share of the trade, cut or no cut.
I began with talk to Mr. Jewell about a single-barrel breech-loader our house was controlling, and quoted it at $7.20, sixty days.
“Is that the F. & W. gun?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why, Blissam quotes that at $7.”
The deuce he did! Yet he was the boy that didn't intend to cut.
“Was his price net?”
“No, two off, ten days.”
“Well, that brings them $6.86. We make 5 off in case lots, bringing them down to $6.84, and there is 2 off that, ten days.”
This was so mighty close to what the goods were costing us that I felt like crying as I made the figures; but my back was up, and I didn't propose to let Blissam walk over me, even if he was from Philadelphia.
Mr. Jewell was a very pleasant man to meet. He had no hobbies, no crotchets. He was as pleasant with me as if I was buying instead of trying to sell to him. This is a pretty good test of a man. One that meets a strange traveling man pleasantly and gives him a patient hearing is bound to be pleasant and kind-hearted clear through.
I gave him quotations on revolvers and cartridges, and tried to get him to say he would not order of Blissam till I saw him again; but he would not promise, for the reason, he said, that his son might even then be buying at Blissam's room. Still, he said, it was the son's custom to do no more than make a memorandum at the hotel and give the order after consulting him.
I then started off to see Billwock, and squeeze some money out of him. His wife and seven children (or more) were there, but no Billwock. Where was he?
He was down getting a boat ready to go fishing with Mr. Blissam that afternoon, she said.
Confound Blissam!
Had Mr. Billwock left any word for me?
“Nein; not ein wort.”
I found where he was and started for him. He wasn't at all pleased to see me; in fact he didn't seem to care whether I had gone from Rossmore or not.
“Going fishing?” I asked. “Yes; I dakes a leetle fish.”
“Don't you need some goods?”
“No; I dinks not.”
“How about money? Haven't you got some for me?”
“Not a tollar now. You see I pay Plissam last night ery tollar I haf.”
“Why didn't you divide?”
“It was not wort' w'ile.”
“But I must have some money; your account is long past due and we need it.”
“W'at you do? I got no money, I told you.”
“You must get some. I don't care how you get it or what you do, but I must have $50 to-day.”
“Well; if I get it I gif it you.”
“But you are not going to get it while you are off fishing. I don't want to be too stiff, but I want you to understand that I mean just what I say. Our house drew on you and you let the draft come back, and I have orders now to attend to it.”
“What you do, s'pose I not get it?”
“I shall tell you when the time comes.”
He saw I meant business, so tied up his boat and started toward the store, muttering to himself and looking daggers at me. When he reached the store he talked in German with his wife awhile, and finally said to me:
“You come in pimepy and I see what I can do.”
Satisfied there would be some money coming I then called on the hardware house of Whipper & Co. I had often heard of Whipper. He was known to the trade as the biggest liar east of the Mississippi; but a real good liar is usually an affable fellow to meet, and Whipper called me “My dear boy” before we were together five minutes.
I sympathize with business men in their affliction from traveling men. We go into their stores early or late, as suits ourselves; we expect their immediate attention, and we want to sell them or have a good reason for not doing it. I often walk back to a man's desk and find him intently at work over something; I would gladly back out if I could, and risk the coming in later at a more opportune time. But he has seen me, probably cusses to himself, hopes I am selling something he doesn't keep, so he can cut me off at once, and then takes my card or listens to my name.
I don't want to come right out and say “Do you need anything in my line?” for if he answers “No” I ought to turn about and leave him, so I casually remark that it is a good day, or a stormy day, and he says “Yes,” as if he had heard that before. I take a roundabout way of getting to my business, and all the time he would be very glad if I was in Halifax. I may interest him in my goods before I get through, but if he could have had his way he would have omitted the interview until a better time for him.
But there are men on the road who drum a man if they reach the town at midnight, and as he sticks his head out of his bedroom window, inform him they are giving an extra 2 1/2 on “J. I. C.” curry-combs and ask him how he wants his shipped. Henley can do this. The boys on the road know that he carries a Waterbury watch in each pocket, and expects to sell 1,000 bills in 1,000 minutes.
I appreciate such a man as Whipper. Whatever it was he was doing he always dropped it, and met a salesman as if he was honestly pleased. I think that ought to offset a great many sins. I hope it will.
I told him my little story and he looked as if he believed every word I said. Then he asked, in a very confidential tone “What is your best price on American bull-dogs?”
“Two dollars and eighty-five cents.”
“Phew! You are far out of the way, my dear boy, far out of the way. Did you see this last card of Reachum's? No? How could you? You are on the road. We now get two postals a day from Reachum, and I expect to see them coming oftener by and by. Tom, where's Reachum's last card?”
“I don't know; I toss them in the waste basket when I come across them.”
“Don't do it again; I want to make a collection of them in an album. So $2.85 is the best you can do?”
Now, $2.85 was as well as any one could do, and we only had a margin of 10 per cent. to figure on. But I determined to cut a little, just for fun, and see what the upshot would be. So I said, “$2.85 is bottom everywhere, but I am going to make you a special price of $2.82 1/2.”
“Tom,” said he turning to the desk, “What was that Shiverhim & Gaily man's price for bull-dogs?”
“Two dollars and eighty cents.”
I swore to myself that I would punch Blissam's head when I next met him in a good place. There was no getting even with him, let alone getting ahead of him. I dared not go below $2.80, sell or no sell, so I began to talk brand.
“Two dollars and eighty cents is all the Lovell bull-dog ought to sell for,” I said: “in fact $2.75 is Reachum's price on them, but we are selling F.& W. goods, and can easily get 5 to 10 cents more for them.”
“Will you sell me some of Lovell's at $2.75?”
“I would if I had them, but we don't carry them. I'll make you the F. & W. at $2.80, and I shall catch thunder for doing that. But I want to sell you.”
“To be sure; to be sure!”
He said this as a man might humor a child, and as if he fully understood all that was in my mind.
“Tom, do we need any bull-dogs?”
“No, sir; got 50 on the way from Reachum at $2.70.”
I probably looked as disappointed as I felt, for Whipper's voice took on a very sympathetic tone. “You could not touch $2.70?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
I felt like adding, “I can't touch anything; I'm going home.”
“What is your price on cartridges?”
“Combination price; same as every one else.”
“Is this your first trip?”
“Yes, and my last. I'm not cut out for the road. I don't suppose I could sell you anything even if you wanted it; I'm not a success.”
“Pooh; pooh! I've been on the road myself; it is not always fair sailing, and it is not always foul. Keep a stiff upper lip.”
Yes, keep a stiff upper lip, when goods were being sold at cost all around you! I was not built that way. Just then the book-keeper, Tom, handed a memo to Whipper and he turned to me. “Have you Quickenbush rifles?”
“Yes; blued and plated. Regular price, $5. I'll make you special price if you want any.”
“What will you do?”
They cost us $4.50 at the factory; I quoted $4.75.
“Great Caesar! You are high!”
“Yes? Well, it is the best I can do.”
“Make it $4.50 and we will take twelve.”
“No, sir; it can't be done. But I am afraid there is no use in my trying to sell you. If you can get them at $4.50 you can buy as low as we can.”
“Well, send me a dozen.”
I entered the order. Was there anything else?
“What is the best you will do on bull-dogs?”
“$2.80 is bottom; but you say you have ordered them?”
“Oh, that is one of Tom's lies; you may send us 50.”
We went through the list, and the old man gave me a very nice order; then followed me to the door with his arm in mine, and sent me off as if he was bidding good-by to a son. I forgave him all his lies, and feel kindly toward him to this day.
I ran into a hardware store with my samples of cutlery, hoping to do something in a line where Blissam could not meet me, but the first man I saw was Blissam, leaning over the show-case, as if entirely at home, and in full possession of the stock. He introduced me to Mr. Thompson as if we had been traveling companions for life, but added to me, “Thompson does not do much in our line, except caps and cartridges, and I've just fixed him up.”
I felt like taking him by the nape of the neck and dropping him down the sewer, but I turned to Mr. Thompson and talked cutlery. I told him I had a line of No. 1 goods at low prices, every blade warranted, and put up in extra nice style for retailers.
“Whose make?” he asked.
“Northington's; but made especially for our house, and with our brand. We are making a specialty of a few patterns, and intend to make it an object to the retailer to handle them and stick to them.”
“You can't touch me on those goods,” said Thompson; “I've handled them and had trouble with them. I am now handling nothing but the New York. I don't know that they're better than any other, but Tom Bradley dropped in here one day, and I had to give him an order, and I've not been able to leave him ever since.”
“Does he come often?”
“No, about once in two years or so, but he's business from the ground up. I like him and like his goods, and I don't want to change.”
I took out my samples more for the purpose of posting myself than with hopes of selling him, and where my patterns were like those in his stock he passed mine over without a word, but I saw that two patterns of mine pleased him. They were even-enders, 3 1/2 in. brass lined, and cost us $3.85. We had been getting, in half dozen lots, $4.80, but I felt that I was in a dangerous place, and I quoted $4.25.
He went back to his stock and returned with a sample the exact counterpart of mine, and said, smiling, “This is Bradley's; he's a tough fellow to beat; I paid $3.65 for it.”
I lost all interest in pocket knives then and there and got out of the store right speedily. I was feeling savage, and made straight for Billwock's. He had made a raise of $40 for me, saying, with several German-American oaths, that was all he could do, and when I talked of selling him something he looked as if he would throw me out of the window.
I called twice at Jewell's before I caught father and son there together, and then I had a difficult task before me. The father was inclined to give me the preference, the son favored Blissam, but they had not yet ordered, and were needing some goods, and I felt as if I could never forgive myself if I were to fail then and there.
They tackled me first on Flobert rifles; I quoted them at exactly 10 per cent, above cost to import, but they declared I was too high. I felt sure Blissam's house bought no lower than we did, and that he could not sell on less margin than that, so I stood up to the price. Then we took up bull-dogs; I named $2.80, and they shook their heads at that; so they did at price of Champion guns, till I began to feel that my case was hopeless.
“I am afraid we can't give you an order to-day,” said the son.
“I have quoted you my best prices,” I said, “and am disappointed.”
They talked together a few moments and finally said, “You may send us a case of Champion guns,” and this was followed by other items. I could see that they were dividing the order between Blissam and me, and I felt grateful for even this, and tried to make this evident. I succeeded in getting several items that paid a good profit, and I went to my hotel feeling that I had done pretty well.
At the desk I was handed a note from Whipper, saying: If you cannot make the Quickenbush rifles $4.60 please omit them.
There was but $3 profit in the item, and I would have omitted them but for a desire that Blissam should not get ahead of me; so I started for the store to learn something about it. On the way I met Blissam, and I put it right at him. “Are you quoting Quickenbush rifles at $4.60?”
“Not by a drum sight! Who says so?”
I handed him Whipper's note.
“Are you going there?” he asked.
I said I was.
“I'll go with you.” This suited me. We saw no look of surprise on Whipper's face. I went straight to the point. “I can't sell the rifles at $4.60, Mr. Whipper, unless I know some one else has quoted that price; if they have, I'll meet it.”
“Just scratch them off,” said he, as calm as a day in June.
“But has any one given you such a figure?”
“Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. If I can get them at $4.60 I will take them.”
I could get nothing more out of him and we started back. On the way we met Tom, Whipper's book-keeper. I asked him what it meant. “Oh,” said he, laughing, “I guess the old man thinks he can get them at $4.60, but we have so many on hand, perhaps it's only his way of canceling the item.” And that was all I ever got from them about it.
I parted with Blissam at the hotel, he going to the South and I West, and about 7 o'clock that evening I reached B—. I had often heard our traveling man speak of the hotel here, and the popularity it had among salesmen, so I was prepared to find the smoking room tolerably well filled when I went in there after supper. There were half a dozen or more in one group, who seemed to be on the best of terms, and I listened to their talk. I found that they were discussing the mistakes of the shipping and stock clerks, and of course that touched me upon a tender spot, and I was all attention.
“Some of our boys used to make the most absurd mistakes,” said one talker; “but the old man was about as bad as any of them. I remember getting most mighty scared once. I had been entry clerk and shipper and jack-of-all-trades in the house. One night's mail brought us back a letter we had mailed, with the notation of the postmaster, 'No such man here.' Taylor, the boss, took the mail, calling out to the book-keeper, 'Fague, I guess we've got a mistake on you this time.' Fague looked at it, saying, 'I don't believe I've made a mistake, but if I have I must stand it.' The envelope was torn open and the address on the bill was the same as that on the outside, John Smith, New Castle, Ind. Then I was sent to the order book, but the order there was New Castle, Ind. Taylor was getting mad. I was told to find the original order, which I did, and discovered that it was from John Smith, New Carlisle, Ind. Says Taylor, 'There's altogether too many mistakes here. Now these goods are lying at New Castle, and will have to be ordered back; the chances are Smith will refuse to receive them, and we will lose at least $75. The man that made that mistake ought to be known; if we owe him anything he can have it in the morning, and then let him be discharged. What do you say, Dewey?' 'It's a bad mistake,' said Dewey, the partner, 'and we are making a good many, but it's pritty hard to discharge a man. Let us see who made it, and show him how much loss it causes us, and give him a pritty good scolding.' 'No,' said Taylor, 'he ought to be discharged; d—n him, he ain't fit to be around a store; if we owe him anything pay him up, and let him go; it will be a lesson to the rest. 'Billy,' turning to me, 'bring the book here so we can see who made that mistake.' Now I was mighty afraid that I had done it. I had been doing that work, more or less of the time, and I trembled as if I had the ague. And in looking at it before, I had paid no attention to the writing. I went back to the desk for the book, and brought it to Taylor. Dewey came over to look at it as Taylor opened the book and found the place. 'H—l,' said Taylor, 'I did it myself!' Jerusalem! but I felt good! 'Well,' said Dewey, 'if we owe you anything you'd better take it.' I was just about dying to holler. The next day all the boys knew it, and Taylor was mighty quiet for several weeks after that.”
“I came near losing a customer once,” said another man, “by a little carelessness. I went into his store in a great hurry; sold him a bill, and collected pay for a previous one. I neglected to enter the collection on my book and also to report to the house. They shipped the goods ordered, but supposing that I had not collected amount due from him, inclosed a statement of account with a 'please remit' at the bottom. No bull ever flew at a red rag quicker than he flew at that statement, and he wrote a saucy letter, saying he had paid me, and he didn't like being dunned for a paid bill, etc., etc. You all know just how a small man will act under those conditions. They forwarded his letter to me and I acknowledged my carelessness; I wrote him taking all the blame on my shoulders, and explaining how the mistake happened. But his Irish was up, and in a few weeks he went into the store, still talking 'bigitty,' proposing to settle up and quit. The book-keeper took his money, handing him back his change and a receipt. He counted the change and pushed it back, saying, 'That ain't right.' The boss stood near, taking all the tongue-lashing, but feeling as if his cup would run over if the book-keeper had now been guilty of making a mistake. He took the change, ran it over hastily, and saw that it was correct. This was nuts. 'It seems,' said he, 'you occasionally make mistakes, Mr. B., so you ought to make allowance for others. It is a devilish smart man who never makes a mistake, and a devilish mean one who will not make allowances for the mistakes made by another.' 'Oh, I'm mean, am I,' said B.; 'well, I pay my bills.' 'So do other people; you're not the only man who pays.' But B. went off on his high horse. The next time I went there I could'nt touch him with a ten-foot pole, but the trip after he came around all right.”
“I wish I had no collecting to do,” said a man near me; “I can sell goods, but collecting is the deuce-and-all. I envy the New Yorkers who don't have any collecting to do. Their business is to sell, and the house collects.”
“But when we do have to look after an account.” said a man whom I had set down as a New Yorker from the first, “it is always a tough one. Not long ago our house told me to stop at a town to see one Berry & Co., who had let two drafts come back, and then had written an impudent letter. They had given us an order for about $700 worth of goods, but they are quoted light, and the old man concluded he'd send on a part of it, and when that was paid send another part, and so on. They refused to pay because they did not get all the goods ordered, and when asked for a report of their condition refused to give one, saying parties could find out about them from Dun or Bradstreet. I presented the account and was told they wouldn't pay until they had to. I reasoned with them, but the fellow was a big-head, and the more I talked the worse he acted. I finally told him I was sent there to get the money or put the account in the hands of an attorney, and went out saying I would be back again at a given hour and I hoped they would be ready to settle up. I went to the other dealers there whom I knew and they all said the fellow hadn't a leg to stand on in court. I went back in the afternoon, and after getting another tongue lashing, he gave me a check, but told me I had lied, as he handed it to me. I haven't wanted to punch any one in years as I did him, but I gave him my opinion of him in a few words, and he won't soon forget it, either. Now, you Western men don't have that kind of trouble in your collecting.”
“No,” said a grocer, “our men never say they will not pay; it's the other way; they say they will and then don't. Seems to me I could get along with a man who said he wouldn't but could be made to. I could do something there; but the fellow who solemnly assures you he will send in a large remittance next week, and then doesn't, is a hard one to manage.”
“Do you want to know who, in my opinion, is the smallest man on earth?” asked a Chicago traveler.
Of course they all looked assent.
“Well,” said he, “Ed. Smythe told about him the other day, and I know the man. Ed. had his samples open at the Moody House and called on the man. Yes, he would go look at them; he wanted a few German goods. He went there, looked the cards all over (Ed. has three trunks), made a sheet full of memo's, and said he would write out an order. Ed. called around about 6 o'clock in the evening. There are two chairs in the office; the hog sat in one and had his feet in the other; he was reading a newspaper and kept on reading; Ed. stood around patiently, as any man can afford to be patient if he is going to get an order. In the course of half an hour a friend came in and wanted to know of the hog if he wasn't ready to go somewhere. He jumped up, pushed his books in the safe, talked to his friend, and ignored Ed. After a while Ed. said: 'Have you made out your order, Mr. B.?' 'No, sir; I'm not going to give you an order. I don't intend to buy any more from your house,' and he walked into Ed. in a way that he evidently thought would impress his friend that he was a wonderful cuss. Ed. is a good-natured fellow, and business is business; he didn't open on him then, but he got even before long. I tell you the smallest man in the world; the meanest dog in the kennel; the dirtiest whelp I know, is the fellow who thinks it's brave to abuse a drummer when he has him in his own store.”
This received a universal amen.
“Let me read you a sketch from theAmerican Groceron 'Smart Alecks,'” said a man, drawing a copy of that paper out of his pocket. “It's called, 'Solomon Smart visits the City.'”
Solomon Smart, of New Portage, O., dealer in general merchandise and country produce, had been in business three years, but had never, until the present occasion, visited the city where the larger share of his purchases came from.
Going to the city was something to which he had long looked forward. He had dreamt of it when he was a clerk; he had eagerly questioned the traveling men about it, and his old employer always told marvelous tales when he returned from his annual trip.
When the old man died, and Solomon, assisted by his father-in-law, was enabled to buy the stock, he began to arrange for a business trip to the city, but somehow every plan he made was interfered with and came to naught. It was a source of great grief to him that he could not carry out his plans.
“If I could only get to Toledo,” he often said to his wife, “I could save at least 10 per cent on prices, and I could pick up job lots of things at big discounts. All the jobbing houses have odds and ends that they are willing to sell at anything they can get, in order to get rid of the stuff. I hate to buy of drummers. It costs piles of money to keep them on the road, and the men that buy of them have to pay it.”
Solomon, as may be supposed, was not popular with traveling men. His contempt for them was expressed openly, and his opinion of their being a curse to retailers was usually the first thing he told them, after be had looked at their cards. Some of them argued the matter with him. Some of the more independent members of the profession told him he was a blank fool. But those who called regularly let him say his say and then squeezed an order from him, keeping their opinion of him for use outside his store.
His peculiar opinion of traveling salesmen was not his only peculiarity. Most of “the boys” on the road mentioned him as “Smarty Smart,” because of certain tendencies he had of making reductions in prices, of marking off charges for cartage or boxing, or of returning goods because he had changed his mind after buying them.
Solomon didn't intend to be mean; he fancied he was only standing up for his rights, and if he occasionally took a little more than his conscience told him was his “rights,” he soothed that by saying to himself that the house wanted to sell him so mighty bad they would stand it.
Let a man be constituted as Solomon was and his “smartness” grows on him. He has an idea that every house he buys from is trying to get unfair advantage of him, and that he must present a bold front or he will be imposed upon. He always magnifies his importance as a buyer, and fancies that every order he sends in is met with a hand-organ and treated to champagne.
So when he finally saw his way clear to making the long-wished-for visit, some of his pleasantest anticipations were the welcomes he expected from the heads of the wholesale houses, and the invitations he would receive to dine and wine with them. But he did not propose that they should pull the wool over his eyes. He would show them that he was no “greeny,” and that he knew what was what.
He carried two large empty valises with him to bring home as much of his purchases as possible as baggage, and when he reached the city hotel late in the evening the clerk sized him up as easily and as accurately as if he had known him for ages, and sent him to one of the poorest rooms in the house most unceremoniously.
The next morning, bright and early, Mr. Smart started out to do business. His first call was on a hardware man with whom he had done considerable business, and from whom he was sure of a warm welcome. He was met by a pleasant young man whose manner seemed to ask, What is your business? He asked for Mr. Braun. Mr. Braun was not down yet but would be in a short time. Would he wait? No; Solomon didn't propose to wait. He was there on business and must attend to his business. Perhaps the young man could wait on him? No, indeed; Solomon didn't come to town to be waited on by clerks. Perhaps he would call again, but he said it with a doubtful tone as if he was not sure that he would patronize a house where the proprietor didn't get around earlier in the morning. Then again he was somewhat indignant that the clerk should not have known him, and when he was asked to leave his name he went off saying it was no matter.
Then he called at Sikkor's, wondering if anyone would be in there. Was Mr. Sikkor in? No; did he want to see him personally? Personally! He wanted to see him on business, of course. He would not be at the store that morning, but Mr. Birden was at the desk, yonder, if he would do. Well, it was good to find one proprietor in; and he moved over to Birden's desk, where that gentleman was busy opening the morning's mail. He looked up at the approach of Smart, said “Good morning,” and waited for Solomon to tell his business.
“This is Mr. Birden?”
“Yes, sir,” pleasantly.
Solomon had rather expected him to say, “This is Mr. Smart?” and to hold out his arms, so he was somewhat disconcerted.
“I buy goods of your house occasionally.”
“Yes? Whereabouts is your place?”
“North Portage.”
“North Portage, eh? What is the name, please?”
“Smart.”
“Yes.” Solomon could see that he might as well have said Smith, so far as Birden's seeming to recall it was concerned, and he began to get angry.
“How is trade, Mr. Smart?”
“Rather dull just at present.”
“Sorry to hear that; hope it will improve. You have a memorandum for some of our goods, Mr. Smart? Let me call one of the men to wait on you. Church, look here.”
And before Solomon had time to open his mouth he was introduced to Church, who shook hands with him, linked his arm through his, and had him half way to the sample room. They were getting on well till Church asked: “Let me see, Mr. Smart, where is your place?”
“North Portage,” said Solomon in his crispest manner. No one seemed to know him, or to remember him five seconds.
“Oh, yes; North Portage. Waite goes there. Waite's a good fellow; you like him, don't you?”
“I'd like to have him stay at home. I never want to see a drummer.”
“Is that so?” and Church looked at him in mild surprise. “Well, what shall we start on first?”
Solomon wasn't prepared to start on anything. It wasn't at all the way he had expected to get started. He didn't like being pushed from one proprietor to another, and then to a mere clerk, and to have that man take it for granted that he was going to buy without any coaxing or figuring. He was disappointed. He expected to have bought a bill here, but there were other stores of the same kind in Toledo, and he believed he'd punish these fellows for their indifference by going somewhere else. Good idea! He would act on it.
He told Church that he guessed he wouldn't leave an order just then; maybe he would come in again. Church coaxed him a little then, but it was too late. Solomon was bound to go, and off he started for a notion house.
The proprietor was in the office, shook hands with him, asked about trade and crops and finally proposed to show him some goods. This was more to Solomon's taste, and he bought readily, but he was disgusted to see that prices were no lower than the traveling man had sold at. He mentioned this to Shaw. “Lower? Of course not. We can't ask you one price in Toledo and another in North Portage. My man carries my stock into your store, lets you see the goods, quotes you prices and posts you.”
“But his expenses are big; it costs you nothing to sell me now.”
“His expenses come out of my pocket; not out of yours. I would be mighty glad if traveling men were done away with; but it would be a saving to me, not to you.”
This rather staggered Solomon, for it upset one of his hobbies. As he was finishing, and about to say “good-by” to Mr. Shaw, he saw the book-keeper whisper into that gentleman's ear and turn away.
“By the by, Mr. Smart, my book-keeper tells me he has had some correspondence with you over deductions made in remittances. These little things are very annoying, and while the amount in dollars and cents is nothing, still business ought to be done in a business way.”
Smart began to feel very hot.
“The book-keeper tells me that your last bill ran nearly two months over time, and that you not only refused to pay interest, but did not pay express on your remittance. Now, Mr. Smart, this is not right. Our place of business is Toledo, not North Portage; our bills are due here, not there; and if we allow them to run sixty days after due we are loaning you money, and ought to be paid for the use of it.”
“I don't get interest from my customers,” said Solomon.
“That's your business and theirs. You do not sell them on a jobber's profit. We deal with you as a business man, and in a business way. I think I know just how you feel,” said Shaw, pleasantly; “when I began business I felt the same way. I squeezed every cent that I could from the men I bought from; but I discovered that it was poor policy. I saved a few cents and lost the good will of the house, which was worth dollars. I speak of all this in a kindly way, and to avoid future misunderstandings. Don't you think of any thing else? No? Well, good-by, I am glad you called and hope to do more with you in the future.” And before Solomon knew it he was bowed out.
But he was boiling with rage. He was particularly angry with himself. He had stood there and taken the lecture as if he was a boy. It was in his mind to cancel the order just given to Shaw, but that gentleman had dismissed him so politely and smoothly that he hadn't had time to do it. It had never seemed possible to him that he would have listened to such a lecture as that without giving back as good as he got, and then sending the man and his goods to—-, a place where there is no insurance against fire.
In no very happy frame of mind his next call was on his dry-goods house. Mr. Luce met him, when he introduced himself, decidedly coldly. Solomon began to think that he would go to some other house with his order rather than leave it here. But before he made a move to go out Mr. Luce asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I don't know as there is.”
“Our Mr. Goodnow did not stop at your place the other day because of your habit of returning goods. While we would be glad to do business with you, we cannot allow anyone the privilege of ordering goods and then returning them at our expense, if he happens to change his mind. I do not try to make Eastern houses shoulder my mistakes, if I make any in ordering goods, and I don't see why I should bear your burdens.”
“Why don't you send what I order? I didn't order the blue print I returned the other day.”
“Mr. Goodnow is very positive that you did order it. It is always possible that the small sample he carries with him appears differently to a man than the goods do when seen in the whole piece. And a man might occasionally be expected to make a mistake, as you did the other day when you wrote us to send you three gross of corsets, when you intended, you said afterward, to order but three dozen. But in the last three bills bought of Goodnow you have sent back goods, and it is not possible that he made such mistakes. Then you deduct from bills, though made out at prices agreed upon.”
“The last cambrics were billed half a cent too high,” said Solomon.
“Then you shouldn't have ordered them. The time to make prices is when you are buying. We have a price for every article in our stock; if you ask it we will give it to you, and then you are at liberty to order or not, as you think best; but if you send us an order for cambrics and say nothing about the price you have no right to express them back to us because our price happens to be different from what you expected. You could have learned our price before ordering, and not having done so, you ought to be man enough to stand to your own action.”
“You claim to sell as low as any one, don't you?”
“We do, and are ready to quote our prices so they can be compared with others when called upon to do so. But we all cut occasionally for reasons of our own, and I prefer to make prices when selling goods, not after they are delivered. Some time ago you returned by express a few trinkets. You knew that Mr. Goodnow would be at your place in a short time, and you might easily have waited until seeing him before returning the goods, but you evidently thought you were punishing us and showing your grit by rushing them back by express. I assure you it does not add to your reputation as a business man. I thought I would mention these points to you because they are important in our relations, and unless the men you buy from feel pleasantly towards you there is every reason to suppose that you will be the loser.”
“I guess I can buy all the goods I want,” said Solomon; “I've not been troubled that way yet.” And he walked off, with a surly “Good day.”
He had never bought but one bill of the other dry goods house, and did not like their traveling man; but now he would have bought of Old Nick rather than buy of Luce. He went over to Keeler's and again introduced himself (the task was getting as disagreeable as it was monotonous), saying he wanted to buy some goods. The gentleman made an excuse to go to the desk for a moment, and Solomon knew it was to consult the reference book as to his standing; having found that satisfactory he proceeded to show him through the stock. The goods were not nearly so much to his taste as was Luce's stock, but he bought lightly, and considered that he was punishing Luce.
After dinner he called again at the hardware store, and this time found Mr. Braun there. He was greeted cordially when he gave his name, but imagine his feelings when, after a few remarks, Braun said: “What's the matter with you people down at North Portage about axes? We wrote you that four of the last six you returned were in no way covered by warrants; some were broken in solid steel, some were ground thin and had to bend, and one had never even been out of your store. We can't ask any factory to take back such goods from us, it wouldn't be right; and we do not make enough profit on a dozen axes to stand such a loss.”
“If you give a warrant you ought to stand up to it.”
“We do stand up to it, every time; and we do a good deal more than that. But you do not stand up to it. You take back goods not covered by a warrant and expect us to stand the loss.”
“Well, if my customers bring them back I must take them or lose their trade.”
“That's your business, not mine. I don't care what you take back or do not take, but I object to your taking them back and then shifting all the burden over to us. We have charged your account with the cost of making these axes good.”
“Well, that's the last time you'll ever have a chance to do that.”
“We can't help that; right is right. It's a small affair, but the thing has to stop some time, and it had better be stopped now.”
Solomon pulled out his wallet, “How much is my balance here?”
Braun turned him over to the book-keeper, who took his money and gave him a receipt. As he walked out he did not hear the remark of Braun to the clerk: “He's one of those smart Alecks that have to be sat down on occasionally, but I guess I gave him a lesson.”
He bought his hardware of another house; he bought his groceries of a new firm; he didn't buy any boots and shoes at all, because the clerk did not take hold of him just right, and he reached home the next morning a tired, soured and disgusted man. He told his wife that he had been a fool to spend money when he might have stayed at home and bought of traveling men. “I tell you,” said he, “a man's a mighty sight more independent when buying in his own store. The drummers are red hot for orders, and you can squeeze them down. Then you've got your stock to look at, and see costs, etc., and the men feel you're doing them a favor to give them an order; but, by George, they think they're doing you a favor to sell you in their own stores. I'm done going to town.”
I saw Mr. Smart a few weeks ago, and he gave me his report of his trip: “I learned something,” he added; “I believe I can make more money by having the wholesale houses my friends than I can by making them mad at me, and now we get along first rate. I guess Luce is one of the best friends I've got, but I was all-fired mad at him that time, I tell you. And what made me the hottest was that I felt the old man was right.”