Dear Sir:—I notice that your account of .................. for goods purchased some time ago has not yet been paid.From this date on, no more credit will be allowed any one owing overdue accounts; furthermore, definite particulars of credit requirements must be supplied in advance.As I am anxious to close up these overdue accounts at once, I must ask for your remittance in full by return mail.Yours truly,..............................
Dear Sir:—
I notice that your account of .................. for goods purchased some time ago has not yet been paid.
From this date on, no more credit will be allowed any one owing overdue accounts; furthermore, definite particulars of credit requirements must be supplied in advance.
As I am anxious to close up these overdue accounts at once, I must ask for your remittance in full by return mail.
Yours truly,..............................
When Fellows read that he laughed and said: "I don't think that hits the mark at all. If any one were to pay you on the strength of that letter, it would be with the determination never to do any more business with you. You want to coax the money out of 'em. You want to try to put it in such a way that they will pay you and feel glad about it. Do you think any one would feel pleased at such an abrupt demand for payment? Now I spent all last night and all the morning trying to—"
Here I broke in with "Does it take all that time to write a single dunning letter?"
"For one letter, no; but for a form letter that is going to sixty or seventy people, yes. It is really important that it will not offend any one and yet 'bring home the bacon.' Here it is," and he passed me this:
Dear Mr. ............:—The enclosed account is so small that I feel sure you will not object to paying it when next passing the store.May I respectfully add that it materially aids me to get these small accounts paid promptly and out of the way.Will you do your share toward helping me—to-day?Very truly yours,..............................P. S. Have a look at my new line of "hot weather electrics"—fans, grills, toasters, etc.—at the same time.
Dear Mr. ............:—
The enclosed account is so small that I feel sure you will not object to paying it when next passing the store.
May I respectfully add that it materially aids me to get these small accounts paid promptly and out of the way.
Will you do your share toward helping me—to-day?
Very truly yours,..............................
P. S. Have a look at my new line of "hot weather electrics"—fans, grills, toasters, etc.—at the same time.
I took it over to a young stenographer who promised to typewrite them for me as quickly as possible. I thought it was worth the little extra cost to send these people real individual letters, each one signed by myself.
Fellows offered to send me three more letters on collections. He advised me to put in a regular "follow-up" system.
I was a little dubious, and told him so, of the wisdomof such a system in a small town. "It's all right for San Francisco, or Chicago, or New York," I said. "But here, where I know so many people, won't they think I'm putting on side?"
"No," he said, "for you send a letter that is not a formal one by any means. Follow-up systems can be just as successful in a small town as in big cities, if you will see that the letter expresses your own personality. A high-falutin', high-brow letter would be a joke, but a human letter, written in the language you use, and that your customers are used to, will win out every time."
When I totaled my sales for the month, I was somewhat gratified to find that they were $2,280.00. The best month the store had had for a long time, I fancied.
The only fly I could see in the ointment was that over $600.00 worth of goods were charged during the month. I had considerably over a thousand dollars on the books, and it seemed to me a lot to have in two months. However, the plan which I put into force the first of the month had certainly cut down charge accounts.
Most fellows had fallen in line with the new plan of controlling credits, and I felt sure it would work out splendidly, although one old chap, Mr. Dawborn, had felt insulted (he owed me $18.75—andstillowes it, by the way) and said he refused to be card-indexed and checked up like a criminal being put through the third degree. He worked himself into a fine fit of fury, and bounced out of the store, saying that he would give Stigler all his trade in future.
I was so "rattled" that I forgot to ask him to pay his account before doing so!
The incident reminded me of something that Larsen had told me about Stigler. He said that Stigler was talking about me and saying that I was a "smarty"and that it was about time somebody "slapped my wrist." Stigler claimed that he would run me off my feet by Christmas.
I remember wishing his store was not so near. I could see it from the front of mine. I had noticed that, whenever he and I happened to meet he would say, "Howdy" in such a contemptuous manner that I felt like knocking his block off! Excuse my free and easy language, but I sure did hate that man!
I have interrupted my story just when I was recording the standing of my business at the first of the third month as nearly as I could estimate it.
Cash in bank, $1,920.00.Accounts owing to me, $1,265.00.Purchases for previous month, $4,220.00.Bills I owed, $3,820.00.
I decided I must get hold of Jock McTavish, for there was something wrong in it all. I had had to get that stock, but I did not have enough in cash and accounts owing to me to pay all my trade bills.
However, I had until the 10th, and if I had a good week I would be pretty nearly all right; still I did feel a bit uncomfortable about owing so much more than I could pay right away, even though I had got a fine new stock of gardening tools, and a new line of carpenter and household tools, besides a new line in aluminum ware.
I understood that Stigler was mad because I had opened up in the carpenter tool line so much more than my predecessor had.
Jock had told me that I ought to reduce my stock and increase my sales. I had increased my sales, but increased my stock also. Still, I had saved quitea lot in price by buying in large quantities, and, if the worst came to the worst, I could pay everybody but the Boston jobbers.
Bates & Hotchkin, to whom I owed nearly $2,000.00, had been very decent to me. They had sent their man to help me take stock and never charged me a cent. I had given them the bulk of my general business, and they had looked after me in great shape. I felt that they would give me an extra thirty-days credit if I asked for it, and I certainly would sooner ask them than any one else.
I studied the figures that evening until Betty came in and put her dear hands on my forehead and said, "How hot your head is, boy dear—are you worrying over anything in particular?" "No," I said with a smile. "Well," she replied, "it is 12:30 and quite time you were getting some beauty sleep."
I said I was not worried, but I didn't like the size of my liabilities. I began to think I had been a fool in buying so heavily.
The next morning I had a bit of excitement, with the result that I paid Myricks his money and let him go.
I had decided to adhere to the division of expenses that Jock had worked out, and that meant reducing the force. Accordingly, I had told Myricks that he could stay a few weeks until he got another job, and I meant it, but that morning, when I caught him in the basement tossing lamp chimneys into the fixtures so carelessly that a number of them were broken, I got mad and told him he was an ungrateful scamp, and that I thought he was deliberately destroying my property. He turned around and said I had no causeto say he was a crook, and that, even if I was his boss, he had friends who would help him to protect his reputation!
Then I saw red, and plugged him under the jaw! Next I called him upstairs, gave him a week's money, and let him go.
His parting remark was, "Everybody's getting wise to you; I'm glad to be through before the smash comes. Mr. Stigler told me what would happen and I can get a job there now—and I'm going to him right away!"
It didn't scare me any—it merely aroused my fighting blood. There was one good lesson I learned that day, though, and that was, "Never to talk to an employee while in a temper." I felt that I had lowered my dignity by so doing; and, even though I had done him no harm, I certainly had not done myself any good.
I didn't like what he had said about Stigler, but if he thought it worried me he was mistaken. If Stigler was spoiling for a fight I'd give him one! . . .
I had begun to think that Larsen was a pretty shrewd fellow; certainly when he did thaw enough to make a criticism it was generally worth listening to.
One day, Jerry Teller, a rather fussy carpenter who did excellent work, and who was always wanted when any extra fine work was desired, came in with a complaint that a back saw he had bought a week or so before was not perfect. I looked it over carefully, but couldn't see a thing the matter with it until Jerry pointed out a crack in the handle from the rivet tothe back. It was such a trifling thing that I did not feel inclined to change it, besides, as I told him, how did I know it hadn't cracked since he had had it? He swore up and down that it was like that when he bought it, for he was too careful of his tools to damage them. He demanded a new saw or his money back.
I told him the saw had become second-hand goods and that I didn't deal in second-hand goods. We had a lot of talk back and forth, but I was doing some tall thinking and finally decided that it was better to give him a new saw than to let him feel dissatisfied, so, somewhat against my will, I finally gave him a new saw. But it didn't seem to please him, for he left the store still grumbling about the way I tried to "put it over him."
Larsen had been watching the whole incident, so, after Jerry left the store I turned to Larsen and said, "There's no satisfying some people, Larsen."
"You no try to satisfy him much, eh, boss?" he replied.
"What do you mean?" said I.
"Say I come to the store. You kicked up a fuss. Then you change the saw. I don't feel pleased. Yet you give me a new saw," he answered.
And then I saw the light! Great guns, what a fool I was! I didn't seem to know the first thing about business. Ever since I got the store my life seemed to have been a series of doing things wrong. And it took Larsen to show me a mistake!
I turned to him and said, "Thank you, Larsen; you are right; I appreciate your frankness." Then I held out my hand to him, which he shook awkwardly,and said, "That's all right, boss; I am still learning; you are still learning—thank you."
I was beginning to like Larsen!
One thing I then and there resolved to do was this: If any one came in with a complaint of any kind, I was going to let him have his say and get it off his chest. Then, instead of arguing with him as to what I should do, I would turn around and say: "I am very sorry you are not quite satisfied with that article, for I can't afford to have any one leave this store feeling dissatisfied. Now, if you will tell me just what you want me to do to satisfy you, I'll do it." Then, whatever he said, even if it meant a direct loss to me, I'd do what he wanted with a smile. I'd not appear suspicious of him, but treat him in such a way that he'd feel pleased.
My sales for the next two weeks fell to an average of $328.00—but, thank goodness, less than $50.00 of the whole were charge accounts!
The plan of making people state how much credit they wanted seemed to be working out well. The deadbeats flew up in the air and said they wouldn't do business with any one that wanted their pedigree before allowing them to buy goods, but the worthwhile ones saw the reasonableness of the request and fell in line with it.
I believed that, while my sales were down 25 per cent., I would be better off in the end, for what I had left I believed was real business. That is, I would be better off if I could only stick it out.
Soon after the first of the month I paid off all my creditors except Bates & Hotchkin, the Boston jobbing house with which I did the bulk of my business. I wrote them a letter saying that I had overbought, and told them that, as they were the largest creditor, I had paid the others and would send them a check as soon as I could. They had always been so decent I didn't expect any trouble at all, and what was my surprise the next day to have a Mr. Peck call on me and tell me that he was the credit man for Bates & Hotchkin!
"Glad to see you," I said, although mentally I was not at all glad to see him. I had a feeling as if dicky birds were walking up and down my spine. "What can I do for you?"
For reply he handed me a statement of their account, the amount of which was $1,079.00.
"Oh," said I, "I wrote you about this yesterday."
"I know," said Peck calmly. "I'm the answer to your letter. I have come for a check."
"But I told you," I replied, rather irritably, "that I couldn't give it to you just now, and that you would have to wait a little!"
"Mr. Black," he returned, "will you tell me if there is any reason why we should wait for our money when you pay every one else?" His voice retained its even tone.
"Yes, I will," I replied, getting hot, "because you are getting the bulk of my business, and, as I am doing as much as I can for you, you have got to do as much as you can for me!"
"Suppose I should tell you, Mr. Black," he said, "that we gave you credit, in the first place, merely because Mr. Barlow spoke so well of you. We certainly didn't give it to you on the reputation of the store you bought."
I winced at this.
"Remember," he continued, "that Simpson deceived us the same as he did everybody else, so that the business, as such, doesn't justify any credit, does it?"
I turned around sharply, and said:
"I am not asking you to give credit to the business. I am asking you to give credit to me, and—"
"And all you can show us, by way of credit rating,is the fact that your old employer speaks well of you!"
"Well," I returned, thoroughly vexed, "the long and short of it is that I can't pay you just now, and you have just got to wait for your money! But let me tell you this—it's the last red penny of my money you'll ever get!"
Still Mr. Peck replied with his calm demeanor:
"Under those circumstances, Mr. Black, can you give me any reason why we should wait for our money? If you were in my place, wouldn't you be inclined to force collection?"
Before I could reply, he continued:
"I have come down here, Mr. Black, to try to help you, and perhaps I can, but you have got to realize first of all that you haven't treated us fairly."
I was about to protest against this, when he put up his hand and said:
"Wait a minute, Mr. Black. You can't see it in your present frame of mind, and you probably think we are very hard to come down on you like this, when you have been in business only such a short time. That is the reason we take this stand. Had you been in business for some years we should have known you inside and out, and would have known just what to do. Now, if your credit is really good in the town, and you have anything back of you, you can borrow the money and give me my check before I leave town."
"Great guns, man," I cried, "to whom do you think I can go to borrow that amount!"
"Why," said he, "haven't you got a bank account here?"
"Yes," said I, "but they won't lend me any money!"
Mr. Peck's face seemed suddenly to harden, and, putting his fingers on the desk, he said:
"Mr. Black, we are simply wasting time. What do you think a bank's for? A bank isn't a mere safe deposit for money! It's a bank's business to lend money! Better go and see your bank now. I'll be back in two hours!"
Without another word he turned and left the store.
At that I completely lost my temper.
"I'll be damned if I will!" I cried to Larsen, who was standing by. "Those people can wait for their money, and you can just bet that I'm through doing business with them! They're not the only jobbers in the world. Dirty, low-down trick, I call it!"
I was much surprised when Larsen replied:
"You paid all other fellers, yes? You not pay him. You get mad with your debtors when they don't pay you? Doesn't the same sauce suit all birds?" (Larsen got his maxim a bit twisted, but I knew what he meant, all right.) "If I might suggest, I would go down to bank and talk with them. You won't be worse off, perhaps better."
The more I saw of Larsen the more respect I had for his judgment, and I believed I had done quite right when at the beginning of the month I had frankly talked over my position with him. We had planned to talk over a scheme of profit-sharing with the help, but there had been so many things happening that we had had to defer it for a time.
Well, I went and had a talk with Blickens, the president of the bank. He shook hands very cordiallywith me, but, when I told him what my errand was, the jovial manner seemed to fall away from him, and he became reserved and grave. Mighty suspicious, I thought.
"It's no disgrace to want to borrow money, Mr. Black," said he, "if you have your business in such shape that it will justify a loan."
I thought I read the suspicion in his voice that I was running the business to the wall. However, I told him fully just how things stood, showed my sales slips, amount of stock on hand, amounts owing, and all that, which I had brought with me at Larsen's suggestion. He looked over the figures very carefully. Then he said:
"How much do you want?"
"Fifteen hundred dollars," I replied, rather timidly.
"You owe those jobbers only $1,079.00 that is actually overdue," he replied, "and that's really the only pressing debt you have. Let's see—you have now $328.00 balance to your credit in the bank. A thousand dollars is all you need. Now, I'll let you have that much. You can then pay off those jobbers, and still have a balance of about $250.00 on your account. You should not let it get below that figure. Your stock is far too heavy for your turn-over, and I think the best thing you can do is to find some way of turning your surplus stock into cash, and you must absolutely cease giving wild credit."
"I've done that already," I said, and told him in detail what I had done.
"That's excellent," he replied, "and I'm glad to know that you have put that into force. You must,however, reduce your stock. Much better for you to lose a little business for the next few months, and get yourself on a sound financial basis, than to be skating, as you are, on thin ice."
He looked over my list of accounts that were owing to me, and, putting a mark against a number of them, he said:
"Those people are tricksters. You'll only waste your time trying to get anything from them."
Great Scott! And I had thought, when I was working for Barlow, that I could run his business as well as he could! Mr. Barlow, I then and there went on record as saying that you were a bigger man than I was, and that I took my hat off to you! I wonder if all employees have the same all-fired conceit in regard to their abilities that I had had? If they have, I advise them to try running a store for a little while! It isn't enough just to be a business man—you have got to be an expert on mechanics, a diplomat, a financier, a master salesman, an accountant, a lawyer, an advertising man—whew! if I had known of the difficulties of running a store I think I would have hesitated a long while before assuming the burden!
Well, the loan was fixed up and I went back to the store, and in a little while Mr. Peck came back. I gave him his check, saying rather coldly:
"That cleans the account up to date, Mr. Peck."
"Yes," he responded. "And now your credit is as good with us as it was before."
I still looked unresponsive, and then he took me by the arm, and brought me to the rear of the store.
"Listen, young man," he said—his manner wasvery kindly. "If you ever really need money, you will find we will be quite willing to help you in reason; but you really didn't need it this time, you know, and I wanted to give you a lesson in thrift and financing, and to impress it seriously on your mind.
"Always make a point of discounting your bills, even if you have to borrow money from the bank to do it. Let me illustrate what this will save you. Suppose that you can take a two per cent. discount by paying a bill in ten days. Now suppose you allow the bill to run to thirty days. You lose that two per cent. for an accommodation of twenty days. That is at the rate of thirty-six per cent. a year. You can borrow money from the bank at the rate of six per cent. a year, and make so much clear saving. You can figure it out this way, if you like. Your purchases are, let us suppose, about $12,000.00 a year, or $1,000.00 a month. I know they are more than that, but those figures will serve to illustrate my point. On your monthly purchase of $1,000.00 you lose two per cent., or $20.00, by taking a full month instead of paying it in ten days. If you borrow that $1,000.00 from the bank for the twenty days necessary it costs you only $3.33, so that you make $16.67 a month, which amounts to"—he figured it out—"to $200.00 a year!"
That was surely a new light on finance to me!
"Now," he went on, "it seems to me that your business should be put in such shape that you can take your discounts without even the necessity of borrowing, and you can save the interest. Here you are with sales of about $25,000.00 a year and a stock costing you around $8,000.00 or $9,000.00. Deducting the gross profit from your sales, which amounts to about thirty-three and one-third per cent., it leaves $16,667.00, which means that you are turning over your stock only about twice a year. You should work this up to three and one-half times a year."
This question of turn-over seemed to me to be a most important one, judging from the way every one I talked with hammered on it. I realized then that Mr. Peck had done me a good turn, and I felt grateful.
"Do you think it is possible, Mr. Peck," I said, "for me to turn my stock over three and one-half times a year?"
"Why, yes," he said. "I know many hardware stores that turn their stock over more times than that. Reduce your stock, eliminate the slow-selling lines, buy carefully for the next few months, and you will have no difficulty in taking your discounts. Besides the saving you will make, you will be building up a reputation as a trustworthy man—and that's a decidedly helpful thing for a retail merchant."
As he turned to leave I held out my hand and said, with the best grace I could:
"I reckon I made a bit of a fool of myself, Mr. Peck. I want to thank you for your help to me."
His handclasp as he said good-by was a good, hearty one, and I felt I had a real friend in that credit manager.
I had thought out a novel way to fight the mail-order competition. It had come to me from an article I had read in a magazine about how a druggist in a small town in the Middle West had practically eliminated mail-order competition—at least temporarily—in his town. I decided immediately to try it. Betty says I am always too impetuous. When I reviewed what happened, I was uncertain whether I had done myself good or harm; but one thing was certain—I surely did get a lot of publicity!
After I had read that article in the magazine, I said to myself: "Now, that's reasonable. If people haven't got a mail-order catalog, they won't buy from the mail-order house. Why didn't I think of that before? If I get this mail-order catalog, I take away from them the thing that makes it easy for them to buy."
In the lower corner of the ad I had a picture and description of the talking machine, set off by a border.
Then I had two men march about the town with boards across their shoulders, on which were painted,
"DAWSON BLACK'S MAIL-ORDER CATALOG CONTEST. TAKE A CHANCE! SEE THE NEWSPAPERS!"
This is the ad I put in both our papers:
HAVE YOU A SPORTING INSTINCT?If so, take a few chances on winning a phonograph. These chances are free.Bring your mail-order catalogs to us. In return for each catalog you will receive a numbered coupon.A drawing will take place in our window next Monday at 7:30 p. m., when one of the coupons will be drawn by a blindfolded person from a tub in which all the coupons will be placed.The number of the coupon drawn will be the winning number, and the holder of it will receive the talking machine absolutely free.The machine may be seen in our window, or at the Farmdale Furniture Store.
HAVE YOU A SPORTING INSTINCT?
If so, take a few chances on winning a phonograph. These chances are free.
Bring your mail-order catalogs to us. In return for each catalog you will receive a numbered coupon.
A drawing will take place in our window next Monday at 7:30 p. m., when one of the coupons will be drawn by a blindfolded person from a tub in which all the coupons will be placed.
The number of the coupon drawn will be the winning number, and the holder of it will receive the talking machine absolutely free.
The machine may be seen in our window, or at the Farmdale Furniture Store.
I had only a few days between the announcement of the contest and the time for the drawing, because I thought, if the time were longer, people would write to the mail-order houses for catalogs so as to enter them in the contest.
I didn't know just what the effect would be, but I did know there was a lot of money going out of the town to the mail-order houses.
The avalanche started the next morning. Before we opened the store there was a line of youngsters outside, each carrying from one to six catalogs. Great big fellows, they were, many of them.
As they came into the store, we passed out coupons, each one numbered separately. A boy bringing in two catalogs got two coupons, and so on. All the week we had catalogs rolling in. Some of them were ten years old. I didn't know there were so many mail-order houses. By the looks of many of the catalogs they had been frequently used.
One funny incident occurred. Mrs. Robinson, whom everybody swore was the original woman with the serpent's tongue—she could never see good in anything or anybody—came into the store in high indignation, saying that her little boy, Wallace, had, without her permission, collected her four mail-order catalogs and had turned them into the store for coupons, and she demanded that I give the catalogs back.
I explained to her that I didn't know which catalogs were hers. She replied that I had catalogs from all the mail-order concerns, and I must give her one of this and one of that and one of another, or otherwise she would make trouble for me!
I had had so many people talking big to me lately that I was getting up a fighting spirit. I turned around to her and said:
"I'm sorry I can't comply with your request. If you have anything else to say, please say it. If not, good-by!"
Gee whiz! what that woman did say! Anyway, she left the store after a while, and didn't get her catalogs. She had never spent a penny with me, and never would. She was a relation of Stigler's, and I had a "hunch" that he had put her up to it.
Stigler had been telling all around town that I was afraid of mail-order competition because my prices were higher, and that that was why I was collecting the catalogs. He said he didn't care how many catalogs people had, he could hold his own with competition.
I met Barlow one lunch time and he came over and put his hand on my shoulder, saying:
"You put the cat among the pigeons this time, didn't you?"
"Why?" I replied.
"Well, everybody is talking about your buying up mail-order catalogs."
"I am not buying them up."
"Same thing," he grinned. "You are surely getting a lot of publicity from it, though. Some people think it's a mighty clever trick, others think it's a mean trick, some others think you are scared. Well, they are talking about you, at any rate. Good luck to you! Go carefully, however."
Well, we had mail-order catalogs stacked up in every corner. I arranged with a junkman to buy them at quite a fair price, and, to my utter surprise, I got enough money from the sale of those catalogs to pay for the cost of the machine and a little bit over towards the advertising!
I was mighty glad I had arranged with the furniture store to display the machine, for Martin, the proprietor, said he had crowds of people looking at it. There was a sign on it saying, "This machine will be given free by Dawson Black to the person drawing the winning coupon in the mail-order catalog contest."
Stigler said that the whole thing was illegal, and came under the gambling law, but nothing was done about it, and I knew that, if it was illegal, Stigler would have found some way of getting at me on it.
One thing was sure—the town did not have manymail-order catalogs in it after the contest. I had a big bunch of valuable advertising from it—at least, I thought it was valuable.
For some time Stigler had been telling around town what he was going to do to me. I had heard he had made the remark that he was going to cut the heart out of me, and he surely tried to, for, whenever I had anything in my window or advertised in the papers, he immediately turned around and sold the same article at a lower price. Whenever I had found him doing this, I had immediately cut down below him, and many things I had to sell below cost. But I didn't see any help for it—I couldn't let him get ahead of me on prices like that. I felt that I had to follow his lead wherever he went, and trust to making my profit out of other things. But it surely was heartbreaking to have a fellow like that bucking me.
One day, Rob Sirle, the editor ofHardware Timescalled on me. He said he had heard about my stunt for beating the mail-order people and he wanted to know about it.
I told him all about it, but somehow he didn't seem very much impressed. He didn't say much about it, but I remembered that some one had remarked to me at the convention that he never spoke about anything unless he could boost it.
I told him about Stigler and the price-cutting contest that was then on between us.
"I'll tell you what you want to do to beat that," said he. "You put goods in your window to-morrow morning and mark them at exact invoice price. Wait until friend Stigler has put the same goods in hiswindow at less than cost, and then as soon as he has done it, remove your price tickets. If any one comes in to buy them, sell them only at regular price, except, of course, if they come in while the cut price is marked on them. You can well afford to let Stigler sell all the goods he wants at below cost price, because the more he sells the more quickly he will eliminate himself as a competitor.
"Every day you can put a new line in the window. I don't think it will be very long before he gives up the foolish task of cutting his own throat. I always compare the price-cutter," he said musingly, "with a hog which cuts its own throat as it swims. That is just what the indiscriminate price-cutter does. He cuts his own throat first. I never saw a price-cutter yet who had a real, solid business. People are wise these days, you know. You offer anything at less than cost price and people flock to buy it; but it doesn't mean that they are necessarily going to buy other goods at the same time. No, sir! They'll buy the cut-price goods from the cut-price store, but they'll buy the regular goods at a regular price from the store which offers them courteous service in place of cut-price chicanery!"
I at once decided to follow his advice.
I happened to mention to him that I went to Boston quite often. He asked me if I knew Barker, the hardware man there. "Quite a big man in the hardware trade," said he. "You ought to meet him. Here," and he wrote me a card of introduction, "next time you go to Boston, drop in and see him. If you ever get into any difficulty he's just the man to help you."
And then, having in the most matter-of-fact mannergiven me an introduction to one of the biggest live wires in the trade, he turned around and sauntered out of the store.
Isn't it astonishing how easy it is to do things wrong!
A salesman came in one morning from the Cincinnati Pencil Sharpener Company to offer me the local agency for the firm's pencil pointers. He walked into the store with what I said to myself was a silly grin, but Larsen, when we were talking the matter over afterward, said he looked a jolly, good-natured fellow, so perhaps it was just my nerves twisting things around.
I was just going over my stock of butt hinges when he came in. I was feeling disappointed because our stock was lower than I had thought it was, since I was getting so that I positively hated to buy! Well, I looked up at him and snapped:
"What do you want?"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Black," he replied. "I represent the Cincinnati Pencil Sharpener Company, and I want—"
Here I broke in testily:
"I'm too busy now. Besides, we're not in the stationery line. You want to go to a stationer with that thing. . . . Well," I said angrily, as he made no attempt to go, "if there is anything else you want tosay, please say it quickly; if not, you will have to excuse me, because I am really too busy to waste time with drummers to-day."
"Excuse me, Mr. Black," he returned a little hotly, "I am not a drummer—I am a salesman. I came to talk with you about giving you a special agency, but it is evident that in your present frame of mind I would only be wasting my time. I will come back later."
With that he walked out of the store.
I certainly felt mad! I could have chewed ten-penny nails!
"Did you ever hear such impudence?" I cried to Larsen.
Larsen looked up with that queer little expression on his face that I had come to recognize as preceding something that disagreed with me, and said:
"Impudence by who, Boss?"
"By him, of course! I'm the Boss here, and, if there is any kow-towing to be done, he's the fellow to do it!"
Larsen didn't say another word, but shook his head.
"Larsen," said I testily, "you seem to take delight in pointing out flaws in my management!"
Again I saw that queer expression come into his face.
"Management," I cried, "not mismanagement! What was wrong with what I did just now?"
Larsen did sometimes make me mad, but I usually found on thinking things over that he was very logical in his reasoning. I had learned a lot from him and I had come to depend on him a good deal, and he had got me so that he was quite free with me.
He walked toward me, leaned against a counter, and said:
"Boss, drummers like him makes money. More money than most retailers. From money angle he is as good as people he sells to. He must know goods to sell them. In that way he is equal to the merchant. He travels over the country and he gets lots of ideas—and all that. He generally has good schooling and comes from good home. He is, in how he lives and who he knows, equal of his customers. Then, again, store keepers would be in a h——"
"Tut, tut!" I said.
"—In a deuce of a mess if traveling salesmen did not call. You hear about new stuff from drummers. Suppose you get mad and they won't call? You are real loser. Simpson used to be that way. You know, Boss, I used to hear some of them salesmen damn him like they meant it. One feller came here with agency for Stamford saws. Now, you know, Boss, Stamford saws is one of best agencies Barlow has. Simpson could have got it. I don't know why he come to Simpson first, because Barlow is—was—leading hardware man in town."
I smiled at the implied compliment.
"Well, in he come here, and Simpson treat him about like—well, he treat him like a dog. You know what that feller did?"
"No," I replied curiously, "what did he do?"
"He put his grip on the floor, walked around the counter, took hold of Simpson's nose and gave it one h——" I held up my finger warningly—"a deuce of a pull!"
My hand unconsciously went to my nose, and I sawa twinkle come into Larsen's eyes as he noticed the movement.
"Well, that feller, he went right over to Barlow. Barlow knew a good thing when he saw it. He tied up that agency."
"Good Heavens," I said, "it never dawned on me that any traveling salesman wouldn't be only too tickled to do business with anybody he could!"
"I tell you, Boss," said Larsen, "I have been in retail business now, let's see—forty years. The more I see of drummers the better they seem. If I were boss of a store I'd never turn a salesman down cold. If I couldn't buy I would say no, like I was sorry. Some day that feller would have a real bargain. Would he offer it to the feller who balls him out? No, sir-ree! He tip off to the feller who treated him white.
"Just think, Boss," he continued, "going around from town after town. Lot of places he sleep at just like what a bum has. Lots of folks give him cold turn-down. When he gets decent treatment from a merchant, he look upon it as a—what do you call the place in the sand where they have trees and water?"
"An oasis in the desert?"
"Yes, that's it, Boss. An oasis in the desert."
"Larsen, you old vagabond, I believe you're right; and if that pencil sharpener fellow doesn't give his agency to Barlow"—I grinned as I said this—"I'll—I'll turn him down with a smile!"
"That's all right, Boss; but how you know you want to turn him down?"
"Oh, we don't want to handle those things. We'renot in the stationery business. That's a stationer's line!"
"But why?" persisted Larsen.
"Why? Because stationers sell pencils!"
"Y-yes, y-yes," said Larsen with a drawl, "and so do 5 and 10-cent stores—and department stores—and drygood stores—and drug stores. Why not hardware stores? Do you know, Boss, I think hardware people sleepy on the switch. We sell razors, and then let the fellers go to the drug store to buy powder an' soap an' brushes. We got a few brushes, but seem scared to show 'em. What happens? The druggist sells 'em the powder and then they give us a devil"—again I put up my hand, I was trying to break Larsen of swearing—"well, they give us a run for our money because they sell razors. I was up to New York last year, and I saw a drug store that had a picture frame department, and a line of toys, and brass and copper novelties—everything what we ought to sell and what was ours till we let these other stores swipe it from us."
Here Larsen stopped for breath. This was a lot for him to say at one time, but he was "wound up" evidently for he resumed.
"Look at automobiles! If we fellers had been alive, we would not have let them specialty places crop up all over the place. Hardware stores oughter have the garage. We oughter have the profits of automobile accessories. Some fellers are getting alive to the job, but some still say we oughten ter butt into somebody else's line!" He sneered as he said this.
"If owned a hardware store I would sell anything I could get a profit on. I'd put in a line of pastry if I thought I could get away with it!"
"Your forty-five years in the hardware trade hasn't got you into a rut then, Larsen?" I said with a smile.
"You bet your life, nix, Boss! You are the first man that let me speak right out to him, and you know I don't mean to be—to be—you know what I mean—bossy like. But it gets my goat how hardware folks has let good things get away from them!"
I had sometimes wondered why Larsen, with all his experience and knowledge, and many good ideas that I had found him to have, hadn't got farther ahead in the world. I had decided that it was perhaps because he was lacking in a certain independence of spirit—and while he spoke freely to me, and wasn't afraid to correct me, it was more because I was young and inexperienced compared with him, and because I had got so I didn't take offense at it. Perhaps under an older and sterner boss he would have been rather afraid to give expression to his views. However, he certainly was valuable to me.
The conversation ended there, because the salesman from the Cincinnati Pencil Sharpener Company came in again. I didn't wait for him to say anything, but beckoned to him, and said:
"I can give you a little time now. I was really busy before, and I am afraid I spoke a little more sharply than I meant to."
"That's all right, Mr. Black," he replied. "I think I owe you an apology for losing my temper. A man in my position can't afford to lose his temper. I'll tell you now my proposition. Mr. Sirle ofHardwareTimestold me you were a coming man in the business and suggested I show you this line."
"Well," I replied hesitatingly, "it seems to me that a pencil sharpener is not just the thing for a hardware man to sell."
"Mr. Black," he responded, "I am not going to try to persuade you what a hardware store should or should not sell; but I want to show you, with your permission, what you can make by handling this line. I have spent most of the day around here calling on some of the residents and other people. I have taken orders for eighteen of these pencil sharpeners. I will turn these orders over to you and you can deliver them and make the profit on them."
He passed me over eighteen orders for the dollar Cincinnati Pencil Sharpener, "to be delivered by the local hardware store."
"These sharpeners," he continued, "cost you 69¢ each f. o. b. Cincinnati. We will turn these orders over to you on the condition that you buy an additional eighteen. That is three dozen in all. In addition to this, if you wish to use this 'ad' in your local paper"—and here he showed me a very attractive advertisement for the pencil sharpener—"which will cost $4.00 an issue in both your papers—"
"How do you know?" I broke in quickly.
"Because we found out before we came here.—We will pay half the cost of three insertions. You notice the 'ad.' is already prepared, except for filling in your name. We don't provide electrotypes because, if we did, your local paper might not have the type to harmonize with the rest of the 'ad.,' so that it would look like a regular filled-in affair; but byhaving the paper use the nearest type to this that they have, the advertisement has the stamp of your own individuality."
That was a pretty good thought, it seemed to me.
Well, the upshot of it was that I bought the three dozen and agreed to run the advertisement on the Monday, Wednesday and Friday following the arrival of the sharpeners.
I shook hands with him as he left the store, and couldn't help thinking that my foolish haste and rudeness might have lost me what I was convinced would be a valuable agency to me.
As he left the store—Mr. Downs was his name—he gave me a little booklet, which he said might refresh my memory on a few points which I was doubtless familiar with. The booklet was entitled "A few reminders on selling methods for Cincinnati Pencil Sharpeners." It outlined methods of approaching schools, private houses, business offices, etc., giving samples of form letters and a whole lot of useful selling information.
It seemed to me on looking it over that no one could help buying those pencil sharpeners!
It never occurred to me, until after he had left the store, to ask about the quality of the sharpener and I wondered why, and then I realized that I had bought the pencil sharpeners, not because of their quality, but because of the sales plan which had already been worked out for me.
If other concerns, who sent salesmen to see me, had presented worked-out plans like these they would have had more business from me. I don't know how it was, but I seemed to be rushed all the time withso many little things that I hadn't had the time to try to think out plans and ideas for selling; and the fact that it was easy for me to go ahead to sell these pencil sharpeners was the main thing that induced me to buy them.
Larsen was unquestionably pleased, and the man had hardly gone out of the store when he said:
"Couldn't one of our fellers go to folks and sell some? . . . And couldn't we sell pencils, . . . and while we are about it—"
"For heaven's sake, Larsen," I cried, "you're trying to run me off my feet!"
The thought of sending salesmen out to get business for a retail store had never occurred to me, although on thinking it over it seemed so reasonable that I decided to think it over some more, and maybe I would send one of the boys out to see if he could not drum up some business on those pencil sharpeners, and perhaps some other things.
Larsen was a bully good fellow, but I found that in one way he was hurting the help, as his habit of swearing seemed to have been caught by the other fellows in the store.
Somewhat with fear and trembling I got the force all together one night and gave them a little talk on business conduct. Goodness knows I felt quite incompetent to speak about it, but I felt that it was necessary, particularly as I had noticed Jones and Wilkes swearing badly, and even doing it when there were customers in the store. From the language they used, it was evident that Larsen was the source of inspiration. I spoke to them somewhat like this:
"It's only a few weeks ago, fellows, since I was a clerk at Barlow's, so I know how you fellows feel and think, because I thought very much like you do now. You know there are certain things which a boss realizes which an employee doesn't. I really want you fellows to know that I want to help you in any way I can."
Larsen chipped in here, saying:
"I know he does that!"
I silenced him, however, and went on:
"You fellows represent this store when you are init and out of it. The way you conduct yourself is to the public the way this store conducts itself. For instance, if I were to get drunk nights, that would reflect on the store, wouldn't it?"
They nodded in agreement.
"Now, if I were to be using bad language all the time, that would reflect on the store also, wouldn't it?"
Again they nodded yes, but not with the same emphasis as before.
"There's one thing," I continued, "that we all have to learn to stop. It is so easy to slip into bad language that we use it before we realize it; but it is a bad habit and one that, I am sure, does hurt the standing of the business. So I am going to ask you fellows, for one thing, to stop using bad language in and out of the store. I'll go further, and say I will not allow it in the store at all; and if I find any one swearing, either about something or at something, I shall put a black mark against his name.
"Now," I continued, and here I brought out a little tin box, "I have put a dollar in this box to start a fund. At Christmas any money that is in this box we will turn over to the Christmas Tree Fund run byThe Enterpriseevery year. If any of you fellows catch me swearing, tell me, and I'll put a quarter in the box. If any of you other fellows are caught swearing I think you ought to put something in the box—if it is only a dime or a nickel, even. You understand," I said, "that there is nothing compulsory about this, but it should be a bit of good fun to keep check on each other in that way, and if any one of us forgets himself and lets loose some language that isn't proper English, he may console himself with knowingthat his flow of language may mean a new doll for some poor kiddie. Is that a go?" I asked.
Larsen chirped right up and said:
"You bet it is! It's one good h—— of a—" he grinned sheepishly, put his hand in his pocket, and dropped a quarter in the box, while a howl of laughter went up from the other fellows.
That one laugh seemed to break the ice, and for the first time we all seemed to have a good understanding of each other. They all pledged themselves to a fine of a dime every time they swore.
"There is one other thing I am going to say at this time," I continued, when that question had been settled, "and that is that every Monday evening I am going to have a general meeting of all men who have done their duty during the week. It will last for three-quarters of an hour only, and I shall look upon it as a kind of directors' meeting.
"You know," I said, "that directors get paid for every meeting they attend. Now, I am going to pay all you fellows half a dollar for attending this directors' meeting every Monday.
"You will be at liberty to say anything you wish. You can roast the store policy, or me, or any one of us here, and whatever takes place at this meeting will be considered merely as an outside affair and nothing to affect our relationship in the business. In other words, you have a free hand to go as far as you like in that meeting and know that there will be no kick from me on it.
"Next Monday we'll all get together and talk things over generally. If any of you have any suggestions to make, shoot them along next Monday. A weekfrom Monday, however, we'll name one definite thing for discussion among ourselves."
I gave the boys a cigar each and the meeting adjourned.
I felt that that night's work was well worth while, for I soon noticed a little different attitude in the men. Eighty cents, however, went the first day into our "swear box." I began to wonder whether their dimes or whether their bad language would hold out the longest.
The idea seemed pretty simple, after it had been tried, and found to be a success, but it wasn't such a simple thing for me to think up. It had started when Betty read in a paper about how the inmates of a prison were given a voice in the running of it, and that had set me thinking about giving the employees a hand in running the business, and the plan grew out of that. I had been convinced from the start that it would work out well.
A customer had come into the store one day and asked for an 8-in. aluminum saucepan. Jones had waited on her, and had replied:
"Sorry, madam, but we are out of that size."
The customer had turned and left, and I had watched her make a bee line for Stigler's. Then and there I began to consider whether it would not have been possible to have sold her something, instead of allowing her to turn away. I reasoned that, while she asked for an 8-in. saucepan, she might have been just as well satisfied with a 7-in. or a 9-in. or something else. Jones had not, however, made any attempt to see if something else would suit her. I reasoned that there were also many cases like this coming up everyweek, and that if we could only outline some standard method of handling such cases, it would mean quite a lot of sales saved—and, better still, in customers saved. That customer who went out, if she found what she asked for at Stigler's, would probably figure that we did not have a very complete stock, and, in any case, when we forced a customer to buy somewhere else it tended to cultivate the habit of trading there.
I figured that here was a good subject to bring up for our meeting the following Monday, and I sat down to work out some general rule to cover such situations.
It took a long time for my inexperienced mind to put in writing that I wanted to say, but finally, with the help of Betty, I evolved the following, and then, deciding that it was such an important matter that it ought not to be delayed until the next Monday, I had it typewritten, and gave a copy to each of the force.
This is what I wrote: