20%added to cost = 16⅔%profit on selling price25%added to cost = 20%profit on selling price30%added to cost = 23+%profit on selling price33⅓%added to cost = 25%profit on selling price40%added to cost = 28+%profit on selling price50%added to cost = 33⅓%profit on selling price60%added to cost = 37+%profit on selling price75%added to cost = 42+%profit on selling price80%added to cost = 44+%profit on selling price90%added to cost = 47+%profit on selling price100%added to cost = 50%profit on selling price
I thought the whole thing over carefully, and it seemed to me that what I had to do was, first of all, to analyze my stock and see if there were any items in which I was too heavily stocked, and if so to reduce that stock as soon as possible, and then put the money realized in other goods that would turn over quickly. I could see that that would increase the entire stock turn-over, at the same time increasing total sales by substituting new, fast-turning, stock for the excessstock in the lines I then had, and this would mean reducing my percentage of expense.
The accountant had remarked that increasing the turn-over was the big secret of meeting rising costs, and I would see that he was right. My head was in a whirl with percentages, costs, selling prices, gross and net profits, turn-over, increased cost of goods, higher prices of labor and a lot of other things going through it like a merry-go-round.
I decided that the next step was to arrange a definite system of keeping track of expenses. I would divide the expenses into different classes and see that no single class of expense exceeded a certain limit which I would set for it.
Next, I would build up a logical advertising campaign. Talking with Fellows had converted me to the value of advertising. I had asked him if there was ever a time when a man could afford to stop advertising. He replied, "Yep, a man can afford to stop advertising when he can afford to be forgotten!"
Then I would find some way of getting my help—I had five people at the time—to work better for me than they seemed to have been doing. They seemed to look upon me as a joke. I didn't know that I could blame them, for I certainly felt like several kinds of joke myself.
The accountant on looking over my expenses had thought that my salary roll was too high. I told him that in that case I would cut salaries all round. His reply was, "I wouldna do that if I were ye. A more deesirable plan would be to see if ye canna adjust your affairs to give them more money"—I gasped at this—"and reduce the number o' your employees."
I hope I never have to go through another two weeks like the first two after I bought the store. I was only a boy when Aunt Emma died and left me the money, but I think I grew up quickly—at least Betty said so. She thought it did me good.
When she told me that, I cried with amazement:
"Doing me good?—to lose all that money in two weeks!"
"Yes, indeed," she declared, "you're just beginning to realize that you've a lot to learn, and you're much nicer to be with than you were before." She gave a funny little smile, as she continued, "You know, boy, you were awfully conceited—you're awfully conceited now; but I'm glad to notice that you're not so dead sure of everything as you used to be!"
"Betty!" said I . . . But what happened then is nobody's business but mine—and Betty's.
Our total sales for the second week were $401.75, over a hundred dollars better than the previous week. Nothing like the $560.00 a week that Jim Simpson had led me to believe the store was doing, but not so bad as it might be.
There was one thing I wished, however, and that was that we had a larger cash trade. Out of the $400.00 business we did the second week, $160.00 was charged.
I found out that Jim Simpson had had a whole lot of book debts owing him; but, instead of turning them over to me at a discount, as the accountant told me he should have done, he had collected what bills he could, and then gave the others receipts in full for whatever they could pay.
I didn't know how much he got this way, but old Peter Bender, the carpenter, had come in for some goods, $18.75 worth, charged, and had told Larsen that Jim had gone to him just before he left town and had given him a "clear bill of health," as he called it, for $10.00, in settlement of his account of sixty odd dollars.
I told Larsen, whom I called the manager, that we must cut down the charge business and build up the cash trade. Larsen shrugged his shoulders and said,"It's up to you, Boss." Larsen hadn't seemed to warm up to me at all after that scrap over the two weeks' pay that Jim did him out of, even after I had told him that I would consider him manager under me. . . .
At the beginning of the third week I put in three days of the hardest work I ever did in my life. I suppose my help thought I had a cinch because I had been working out a division of expenses with the aid of the accountant! I know when I was at Barlow's we clerks used to grumble because we did all the work while old Barley Water, as we called him, used to spend so much time in his little office. I wished I could make my help understand that I was working for them as well as myself, but I guessed it was hopeless, so I didn't try—then.
Well, this is how we divided expenses. The accountant said:
"Let us feegure our plans for the coming year on the assumption that ye'll do $30,000.00 worth o' beesiness. That is an increase of more than $7,000.00, but this store ought to do much more than that.
"Your total expenses should be aboot twenty per cent. of sales, or a total of $6,000.00."
"What are they at present?" I asked, rather shamefacedly, for I felt I ought to know such an important thing as that.
The accountant perceived my look and he squeezed my arm sympathetically, as he said:
"Dinna worry aboot that, laddie. Ye're noo worse off than a lot o' others I ken in that respect. Not half the dealers in the country have an analysis o' their expenses."
That accountant was a brick.
Well, the accountant told me that my present expenses were, in round figures, $7,000.00.
"Gee! that's fierce!" I said. "Have I got to cut down expenses $1,000.00?"
"That's just aboot what ye hae to do," was the grave reply.
"But how?" I said, perplexed. "I can't possibly do it."
"Can't?" he said, and raised his eyebrows. "Did you no ever hear aboot the rabbit and the bull pup?"
"No. Shoot!"
"It's verra short," he laughed. "A rabbit was one day chased by a vicious dog. He ran as har-rd as he could, but the dog had nearly caught up to him, so, to escape, he ran up a tree."
"But a rabbit can't climb a tree!" I exclaimed.
"Not generally," was the response, "but this rabbit had to!"
How some silly little thing like that makes you think! It was some time before the silence was broken. Then I said:
"Well, how do we do it?"
"This diveesion of expenses will help ye," he said with a smile, and passed over this paper.
Division of Expenses Based on Estimate of 20 Per Cent. on Gross Sales of $30,000
Per Cent.Present CostSalaries11.0$3,300.00$4,100.00Rent3.0900.001,000.00Taxes and insurance1.5450.00460.00Advertising1.0300.00120.00General Expenses1.5450.00750.00Delivery.5150.0050.00Depreciation.5*150.00350.00Heat and light.5150.00110.00Bad debts.5*150.00500.0020.0$6,000.00$7,440.00
*These two items are estimated only, for the records of the old business are too incomplete to insure accurate figures.
*These two items are estimated only, for the records of the old business are too incomplete to insure accurate figures.
I looked the schedule over.
"Then my expenses," I said, "are $1,440.00 more than they should be?"
He nodded. "And dinna forget," he added, "that these figures are based on $30,000.00 worth o' business. This means that ye maun increase your sales aboot $7,000.00 during the year. Unless ye do, the percentage cost o' doing business is going to be conseederably higher than twenty per cent. Unless ye can increase your business ye'll hae to decrease your expenses even more than $1,440.00."
"Well," I remarked grimly, "bring out the axe. How are we going to cut it down?"
"That's the brave spirit!" Jock replied. Did I tell you, that Jock McTavish was a Scotchman? Well, he was—very much so. Perhaps that's what made him such a good accountant.
"Noo I know ye mean business," he said, "and noo we hae the facts to wor-rk on. There are numerous businesses ruined every year because o' the lack o' moral courage on the part of their owners to face facts and cut their cloth accordin' tae their means. Let's start wi' salaries. What are they noo?"
"Let me see," I mused. "I think they are—"
"Never mind," he said brusquely, "Iken. Get intothe habit o' kennin', laddie. Ye'll neverguessyour way to success. Here are the figures:
"I really think ye are no' justified in giving yourself $30.00 a week," he continued. "Twenty dollars would be nearer correct. However, compromise and for the time being mak' it $25.00.
"You really should'na need five people in the store the noo, for, of course, you intend to work har-rd, don't ye?"
I nodded.
"Well, deesmiss either Jones or Myricks. But, give the laddie say three weeks or a month to find another posseetion. It's best to let help go in such a way that they will feel that ye hae no done them an injustice. Tell him frankly why ye do it, and he'll comprehend all right."
"Won't the other fellows kick at having to do more work?" I asked.
"Aye, probably, but tell them that it's only until the business is on its feet and then ye'll do better for them."
"Very well, so much for salaries. What about rent? I can't cut that down, can I?"
"No, that's an item ye canna reduce unless the landlord will give it, so leave that for the time being.
"Taxes and insurance ye had also better leave as they are at present."
"I have placed advertising at $300.00, I said."
"Ye can reduce that, of course, and ye can save something there."
"No,sir!" I exclaimed. "That's one item I certainly will not cut a penny!"
My firmness so surprised him that he said never a word more about it, but went on to the next item.
"General expenses," he commented. "These are 'way too high. Ye'll doobtless find waste rampant among your help and will hae to adopt stringent measures to prevent it. Most retail stores are neglectful o' this item—they're careless and waste and misuse supplies. They no' seem to consider what kind of twine, paper, and such things are best and most economical for their particular needs, but buy in a haphazard manner whatever is offered tae them. Ye want to exercise the same care in buying supplies that ye do in buying goods."
"All right," I said. "We'll make a drive at that item of expense and try to put it where it belongs."
"Deleevery expenses," continued Jock, "are lighter in this town than the general average. Ye'll probably save something here, but if ye cultivate the better class trade, which that mon Simpson did'na do, the present low delivery cost will rise.
"'Depreciation.' This item depends on yourself, how ye buy and how ye keep the stock.
"Heat and light expenses are verra low at preesent, but the store looks glower an' gloomy after dusk. Ye may want to improve that. People will always gravitate to the well-lighted shop.
"And bad debts," he concluded, pursing his lips—"that's an item ye'll hae to watch carefully. I should advise ye tae ha' some deefinite system of giving credit and some plan of encouraging cash business. At present your charrge sales are far too numerous for your pocketbook to carry."
Well, that's the gist of what was said. The upshot was that I determined to keep each item as near the estimate as possible, and (this was Betty's suggestion) if any one item proved to be less than the estimate, this should be saved and not spent to help some other lame dog of expense over the stile.
Barlow sent a copy ofHardware Timesover to me, in which he had marked an item about the State Convention the next week. I showed it to Betty and remarked:
"Of course I can't afford to go, because it comes the same day as we get married, and you remember, Betty, we agreed that we would not have our honeymoon until we had 'turned the corner'."
But to my surprise, she urged me to go. She said I might learn a whole lot there by meeting other hardware men and the new ideas I would get would help me very much under present conditions. So Betty and I decided to go to the Convention—and also make it our honeymoon. I telephoned Barlow and thanked him for sending the notice to me.
The salary adjustment I left until I should return. Even Jock agreed to that.
It was mighty nice of Barlow to send me that notice—and he a competitor of mine—or rather, I was a competitor of his, I guess!
Thirteen may be an unlucky number for some folks, but it sure was the lucky day for me, for on that day Betty and I were married. It was a quiet little home wedding. No one was there but mother, the two girls, and a cousin of Betty's from Hartford. Everything went off splendidly.
We went on the 12:30 train. Barlow went ahead of us on the 9:30. I extracted a promise from him before he left that he wouldn't tell anybody that we were just married, because if they did know they would tease the life out of us. He never let it out, and Betty and I had the time of our lives.
The only incident that marred the day for us happened at the station. We got there ten minutes before train time, and who was there, leaning against the newsstand, but Stigler. He made no attempt to come near us, but raised his hat and said in a loud, harsh voice, "Well, Mrs. Betty Black, so you've been and got married after all! I wish yer luck of your bargain!" He looked me up and down, turned his head, spat contemptuously on the floor, and stalked out of the station.
"Really, that man's 'narsty' temper will get him into trouble some of these days," so quoth I to Betty.
She, however, did not treat it as a joke. "Be careful of that man, boy dear," she said. "He really hates you. You know he—he—"
"Yes, I know," I laughed contentedly. "He wanted to get my Betty, but he didn't."
"Be careful of him, boy dear, anyhow."
The train then came in, and off we went to the Convention, as Betty said, combining business with pleasure.
Barlow met us at the other end, and turned Betty over to the Chairman of the Ladies' Entertainment Committee and took me over to Convention Hall.
"You two will have to endure the hardship of being parted for an hour or two," he said with a laugh.
"Look after him, Mr. Barlow," said Betty. "Remember he is down here for business, and he must not waste his time with nonsense."
"I never called you such a name as thatyet," I said, and then we parted.
Barlow was an awfully interesting man to talk to! I never realized how human he was before. Certainly when I worked for him all the clerks at that time looked upon him as a creature outside of our world altogether. I don't think it ever dawned on any of us that he was a real human being, with likes and dislikes just the same as ourselves, and we never credited him with any thought or consideration for us other than how much work he could get out of us!
I felt a little ashamed of myself, in talking with him, to see how really interested he was in the welfare of all his employees. The thought occurred to me, while he was talking, that, as he was interested in us, why in heaven's name hadn't he told us so?
In thinking over the matter later on it seemed to me that it would be a good idea for the boss sometimes to ask a clerk how his wife was, or how the new baby was getting along. In fact, I didn't think it would hurt to take a clerk home to dinner occasionally—not often enough to make him one of the family, as it were, but it seemed to me that a proprietor could develop a great feeling of loyalty in his people over a round of beef, or a good cigar, out of business hours, than in any other way. I decided to try it some time, when things got better settled at the store.
When we got to the Convention it seemed that Barlow knew everybody, and he appeared to be very popular.
A fussy little man, named Minker, who seemed tohave something to say to every one, introduced himself to me, and we had some conversation. He asked me where I came from, and I told him.
"Oh," he said, "then you know Barlow?"
"Very well, indeed," I replied. "In fact, I used to work for him."
"If he was as fine a boss as he is a president, you were certainly fortunate," he returned.
"President of what?" I asked, in surprise.
He looked blank. "Why," he said, "president of the association!"
"I didn't know he had ever been president of the association!" I exclaimed. "He never said anything about it to us!"
"Hm!" he said, as he looked at me over his glasses. "Don't you ever read your trade papers?"
I felt a little bit small when I replied:
"N-no;" and then, feeling the need to excuse myself for it, I continued, "I've really been too busy."
"Ha!" he jerked, putting his head on one side like a sparrow, "bad habit to get into, that, if I may say so without being rude. Man can't know how best to conduct his own business unless he has some idea of what other people are doing. Got to know that to keep even with the times. Come along with me."
And then this little man, who I afterward found was one of the wealthiest hardware dealers in our State, took me by the arm, saying:
"I am going to introduce you to a trade paper man you ought to know."
He took me up to a group of men who were laughing at a story told by a big, raw-boned, loose-jointed man who seemed to be popular with the others.
"Rob," said Minker, "come here!" And the big man good-naturedly came over, put his arm around the little man's shoulder, and asked:
"Well, what is it this time?"
"I want you to meet Mr. Dawson Black, who has only recently opened a store. Mr. Black," said he, "this is Mr. Robert Sirle, known to all his friends as Rob. He is the editor ofHardware Times."
"I'm mighty glad to meet you, Mr. Black," said Mr. Sirle, giving me a hearty handshake, "You bought Jim Simpson's business, didn't you?"
"Why, yes!" I replied. "How do you know?"
He smiled. "I wish I had known you a few months ago, Mr. Black," he said. "I might have saved you a bit of money. Didn't you read inHardware Timessome two years ago about the mess Simpson got into?"
"Why, no," I returned, "I don't know as I—I—as a matter of fact, I don't subscribe to trade papers. I haven't time to read them."
I would like to tell you what this big Westerner said. I am not sure whether it is what he said or the way he said it, but we sat down and we had a very serious talk, in which he told me how necessary it was for a business man to watch at all times the development of his trade; how the reading of trade papers kept him constantly posted, and continually gave him new ideas. He gave me some excellent pointers, and invited me to write to him any time he could be of help to me.
I at once subscribed for two copies of his paper to be sent to the store—one for myself and one for the salesmen. The last was his suggestion. I felt it would be a good investment, for, as he said, when the clerks read the magazine they get interested in the bigger things about the business, they learn more about the goods, and get to appreciate some of the boss's responsibility and trouble.
It certainly was a fine thing for me to meet this man, representing a paper whose sole object appeared to be to help the retail merchant.
Some wonderfully interesting talks were given. One discussion which interested me greatly was about giving credits. Credit appeared to be the bane of the hardware man's life. Mr. Sirle had charge of a question box, and gave some fine suggestions which I decided I would try to adapt to my business.
One other thing, as soon as it was mentioned, aroused a lot of heated discussion—that was mail-order competition. Even in my short experience I had felt the pressure of these mail-order houses, but somehow or other I had taken it as a natural evil, and had not thought of taking any particular steps to combat it. One thin, cadaverous man voiced my thoughts when he said in a mournful drawl:
"The best thing to do is to appeal to the patriotism of the people. We live in the town, they know us, and they are with us all the time, and their very friendship for us ought to be enough to make them give us the business. I believe we all ought to have posters saying 'Buy in your home town' or something like that, and if you say this to the people long enough, they'll do it."
As soon as he finished a short, roly-poly kind of man jumped excitedly to his feet, and, having obtained permission to speak, said:
"I'm sorry I can't agree with Mr. Jenks. It's all right to talk patriotism, but, hang it all, is there anyone here who would buy from his home town if he could buy cheaper elsewhere? I'll bet every one of us here buys things out of our own towns. I know I buy my clothes in Boston, and my wife buys her shoes when she goes to New York to visit her sister. I can get better clothes and cheaper clothes in Boston than I can in my home town, and I should consider myself a poor business man if I put up with inferior clothes at a high price, just to support some local man who couldn't compete fairly with Boston merchants.
"I tell you, gentlemen, it's just a question of competition, and I think it's all poppycock to talk about appealing to a man's sentiment about his home town. All things being equal, I believe the local man would get the business every time. But if a man can buy a stove cheaper from the mail-order house than he can from me, I shouldn't expect to get the business.
"As a matter of fact, there are very few things that the mail-order house can beat us on. I know a fellow came into my store a few months ago and told me he could buy a stove I was selling cheaper from the mail-order house. I took him up on it, and said I didn't believe he could. He showed me the stove in the catalog, and I could see that it wasn't the same thing I had, and wasn't as good. I pointed out to him the difference, and he said, 'Yes, but look at the difference in the price!' He had forgotten that he had to pay the freight, and, when that was put on, there was mighty little difference between the two. Then I said to him: 'You send for that stove and set it up beside the one I have here, and, when you get them side by side, if you can honestly say that mine isn't the better value for your money, I'll pay the bill on your stove!'
"He hesitated at that, and then I told him about a woman who bought one of these kitchen cabinets from a mail-order house, and, when she got it, it was all banged up, and she had no end of trouble in getting it straightened out, besides having to wait about six weeks before it came. She reckoned up afterward that if she had bought it of me she'd have been dollars in pocket and could have seen just what it looked like before buying it. That settled him, and he bought the stove from me!"
That started me thinking, and, going home on the train, I had a talk with Mr. Barlow about it, and also about the question of credits, for these were the two things that impressed me most at the whole convention, although there were many other interesting things taken up.
"I wonder," said I to Mr. Barlow, "whether it would be possible for us to kind of work together on credits—whether, if I were to tell you what customers owed me money, it would save you getting in badly with them, and you do the same with me?"
I felt very nervous in making this proposition, for I didn't know whether it was proper or not. I had never given such things as credits or competition the least thought while I was working with Barlow. I was surprised and delighted at the fine way in which he said:
"Why, certainly I will. Come up to the store and talk it over with me."
I made an appointment with him for the following night to discuss a policy to adopt for mutual protection on credits, and also on fighting mail-order competition.
I could not help thinking what a wonderful thing a convention is. I had learned more about business in those three days than I ever knew before.
When I weighed the cost of going to the convention against the benefits I got out of it, I considered that I had made a good investment—not counting the happiness of a honeymoon!
I had promised to get to Barlow's as soon after eight as I could, and I was there at ten minutes past. Barlow welcomed me and led me to his office in the rear, and there I met with a surprise, for who should be sitting there in his office but Stigler, who ran the only other hardware store in town.
Stigler didn't attempt to rise when I came in; but just nodded curtly and said, "Howdy?"
I looked blank for a minute, and then said:
"I see you are busy, Mr. Barlow. I'll come in again."
"Sit right down, Dawson," he replied, "for if we are going to help each other on credits and on mail-order competition, we all need to get together, and it would not be fair for you and me to discuss this matter without asking Mr. Stigler's help also."
"Well," said Stigler, "if you fellers can show me anything that'll save me a dollar, I'm on. But I'm from Missouri! K-ha!"
His laugh was like the sound of a cork coming out of a bottle.
Barlow then explained to him what we purposed doing. When he had finished, Stigler said:
"Sounds pretty, all right, but how are yer goin' to do it?"
"Couldn't we arrange," I offered, "to tell each other who we are charging goods to, and so prevent ourselves from running up unsafe bills?"
"How d'yer mean?" said Stigler.
"Well," I continued, "suppose there's a carpenter who has a bill of thirty or forty dollars coming to me which is overdue—why I tell you and Mr. Barlow that he owes me that money, and, when he comes to you for credit, you won't do business with him until he has paid me. That will make him pay me and save you running into danger with him."
I saw those thin lips of Stigler's turn up with derision.
"And," I continued hastily, "if anybody owes you anything, you let us know and we won't sell to him until he has paid you."
"Listens very pretty, Black," Stigler sneered, "but I guess when you've been in business as long as I have, you won't talk so glib about lettin' your competitors know just what you're doin' . . . Hold on," he said, when he saw Barlow and myself about to protest. "I don't mean that you fellers ain't straight, y' understand, but you couldn't prevent that information leakin' out to yer clerks, and what's to prevent them going to my customers and sellin' to them? And, besides, how do I know I'd get acompletelist of yer creditors, and how do you know you'd get a complete list of mine? If that's your story, fellers, I'm goin' home!" and he rose to get his hat.
"Wait a minute," said Barlow. "If you wish, we can hire an accountant, and pay him jointly, and have him draw off those figures, and we can refer to him when we want to know anything about any one."
Stigler lay back in his chair, and nodded his head toward us several times sarcastically.
"Of course Black, here," he said, "is a novice, and I don't give him credit for knowin' much; but you, Barlow, I thought you knew better than to put up a game like that on me. Nothin' doin', I tell yer. I wasn't born yesterday, and I ain't goin' to let you fellers get the inside pull of my business if I know it. Y' understand, I ain't got nothin' against you fellers, but I think if you just go ahead your way, and I go mine, we'll all be better friends in the end!"
I could see Barlow was really exasperated; but he controlled his temper and said:
"Very well, let us leave that. Would you be willing to join us in a circular to try to counteract the effect of mail-order competition?"
"I'm kinder suspicious, anyhow," replied Stigler. "How do you mean?"
"Why," said Barlow, "we could, perhaps, have a folder printed, quoting our prices against the mail-order prices, with a strong suggestion that people should buy from us as long as we can do as well as anybody else for them."
"Yer mean," said Stigler, "to just send that out as if from the three of us?"
"Exactly."
Stigler thought for a minute, and then said slowly: "And have everybody in town think that we fellers was probably workin' together to boost up prices? No, sir-ree, I think that's the most damfool suggestion I've ever heard! K-ha," he snapped out his laugh again. "Just think of anybody getting hold of a circular with three competitors' names on it! Why,they'd naturally think at once that competitors don't work together unless they're gettin' something out of it."
"We are getting something out of it," I broke in. "We are going to get the mail-order business out of it!"
"Yer can't make me, and won't make the public, believe that. They'll believe we're just puttin' our heads together to do away with competition so's we can get fancy prices."
He stood up, and said, with a little boast in his manner:
"Stigler's allus been known for bein' a keen, cut-rate hardware man. By the gods, he's goin' to stay it. I'm strong enough to run my business without leanin' on you fellers, and I ain't goin' to let the public think for one second that I ain't."
"Then good night to you, sir!" said Barlow, angrily. I was mad clear through.
Stigler shrugged his shoulders. "Yer think I'm easy, don't yer?" he sneered, and went out.
When he had gone, Barlow put his hand on my shoulder.
"Dawson," he said, "Stigler has lived in this town for many years, trading on the reputation of his father, who was a fine gentleman. But he's been losing the better-class trade rapidly, and is only holding up business by cutting prices right and left. That policy can't win in the end."
"For heaven's sake! Mr. Barlow," I cried, "why did you ask him here? If there is one man I detest more than another, it's Stigler!"
"Because," he replied gravely, "if we are going toexercise coöperation, it must be complete, and personalities must be sunk for the greater issues. I like Stigler even less than you do, but that mustn't prevent us giving him an opportunity to work with us."
"Well, he's refused, and the two of us can work together on these plans," I said.
Then, to my utter amazement, Barlow shook his head, and said: "We can't do it, Dawson."
"B-but," I stammered, "in the train you said you thought it was a good idea!"
"So I did, and I still think so, if we could have Stigler with us. But don't you see," he said, "that, if we were to come out with an advertisement under our joint names, Stigler would tell every one in the town that either I had bought you out—remember that you worked for me only a few weeks ago—or else that we had combined to drive him out of business. And, as soon as you put a man in a position where people think he's a martyr, they'll flock to help him. It seems to be a peculiarity of human nature to want to fight for the under dog, and I think you've seen enough of Stigler to know that he would use that weapon to the fullest advantage."
"Well, can't we work together on the credit scheme?" I asked.
"No," he replied, "for, if we did that along the line suggested, Stigler would tell people that we were telling our customers' business to each other, and you can imagine the general feeling then. Stigler would urge them to come to him, and tell them that he would keep their business private, and such things as that."
I must have looked dejected, for Barlow laughedsympathetically, put his arm around my shoulder, and said:
"Now I know you had your heart set on doing this, Dawson, but it's really only a little matter."
"Little?" I said, remembering the hullabaloo at the convention when mail-order competition was mentioned, as well as the question of credits.
"Yes," he replied, "for we can help each other in a quiet way without any definite plan. Now, if you've any credit customers about whom you are in doubt, come in and see me and I'll tell you what I can of them."
"And you'll do the same, sir?"
"I surely will," said he.
And we shook hands and that was how it ended.
To think that the possibility of a real fight against the mail-order houses, and the certainty of checking credit losses, should be knocked in the head by one man who, because he happened to be a crook himself, thought everybody else was!
The next evening, Jock McTavish and I had a long pow-wow over a plan to check credits. It is always a good idea to talk over such matters with an accountant, and Jock wassomeaccountant, in spite of having come from "Doomfreeze" as he called it.
In the morning I took a form over to the printers with instructions to have it printed on 4 × 6-in. cards. I had an old cabinet that just took that size—and besides Jock said it was better than the 3 × 5-in. size. He said, "Most card indices, run on a 3 × 5-in. card, are crowded. The card is really too small except for such simple uses as an address index. The result is that the small cards soon get so cluttered up with notes and additions as to be difficult to read. Better use the 4 × 6-in. size, and give yourself room to write all you want and still keep it in order."
Jock glared at me when he said that, for he considered that I was careless in my bookkeeping just because I carried charges on scraps of paper till evening and then entered them all at once.
We decided that, starting on the first of the next month, we would make every customer wanting credit give us the following information, and sign it.
This is a copy of the form:
We would first get his full name and home address. Then, if he was in business for himself, we would know that, and also where his business was. If he worked for some one else, we'd know it. Then, if he was a plumber, he must state what kind of goods he would most need, and so on. This was my idea. Jock said that builders, carpenters, plumbers and such like would object to that clause. He said they would think it was no business of mine what they bought as long as they paid for it.
I believed, however, that if I had a number of customers likely to use a lot of supplies of a certain kind, it would help me and them if I knew it. I could then buy accordingly.
Further, if I found a man buying a lot of goods quite different from what his card said he used, I'd know there was something wrong and could at once look into it.
The next two items on the card were, of course, the crux of the whole thing. We wanted to pin a man down to a definite credit limit, both as regards time and amount.
With the customer's signature to that card I could easily stop a man's credit if he exceeded his limit in either way.
Betty thought it was an excellent thing,—if I could get it started; and Jock said it was a good plan,—if it worked. I showed a rough draft of it to Barlow at lunch time, and he said it wouldn't work. So, between the lot of 'em I got mighty little encouragement.
Still, perhaps it was best to act on my own judgment. If I was wrong I'd know better next time.
Every credit customer who came into the store was to be passed over to me, and I was going to tell him a little story like this:
"Mr. ——, I've only recently bought this business, and I'm not yet acquainted with all my customers and their needs. Now I see we have an account open with you, and I'm very glad to accommodate you. It will help me to give you good service and to meet your wishes if you will please give me the particulars of your needs."
Then I was going to ask him those questions, fill in the card myself as he answered them and, passing it over to him, I'd ask him if it was all correct. If he said "yes" I'd pass him my pen without a word—and I felt sure he would sign it without a murmur. At least that was my guess.
One thing was certain, I simply had to cut down my credit business. I was hard up, and owed more than I had in the bank. Of course the accounts weregood, but I could not pay my bills with somebody else's unpaid account. The previous week's business had been $428.00, and $204.00 of it had been charged!
I had a crowd of small accounts, people who had bought and promised to come in "at the end of the week," or who had asked to have the goods delivered and promised to pay the boy—and when the boy delivered, they had said, "Tell Mr. Black I'll be in to-morrow and pay him. I haven't the change now."
When, oh! when was "to-morrow"? Unless I got some ready cash soon I'd have to ask some of my creditors to wait until "to-morrow."
The next day, while I was out for lunch, old Peter Bender, the carpenter, came in for some more goods. He had bought $18.75 worth early in the month; a little later he had bought $11.00 worth, and, while I was at the convention, he had got another $8.50 worth of goods.
I had blamed Larsen for that last lot of $8.50, for I had said that Peter was to pay up before getting more goods. However, it had got by Larsen and I had said nothing. Peter had come in as soon as I had left the store, and told Walter, the first assistant, that he was to tell me that my bill would be paid "to-morrow." He had then said there were "a few odds and ends" he wanted—and took $26.00 worth of tools with him. That brought the total to $64.25.
I was really uneasy about it—I was more—I was worried, for Barlow had told me that he would not sell him anything until he had paid a bill of $2.65, while I had gone to $64.25!
Peter had "stuck" Simpson too, I remembered, for Peter had told me when he bought the first lot ofgoods that Jim Simpson had accepted $10.30 in full settlement of over $60.00!
Betty was quite "snippy" that evening. She said she was worrying over the way I managed the business. I fancied she had started to say "mismanaged" it. We almost "got to words." However, I told her that Fellows of the Flaxon Advertising Agency was writing a form letter for me to send to the people who owed me small accounts. There was over $300.00 worth of such accounts, none over $5.00.
Fellows, however, telephoned me that he could not get over till late the following afternoon with the collection letter, so I decided to write it myself.
When he arrived I showed it to him. I set it down here as a horrible example of how not to do it. This is it: