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.”
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