Merchants The Salesman Meets
by
A bunch of us sat in the Silver Grill of the Hotel Spokane where we could see the gold fish and the baby turtles swimming in the pool of the ferned grotto in the center of the room. This is one place toward which the heart of every traveling man who wanders in the far Northwest turns when he has a few days of rest between trips. Perhaps more good tales of the road are told in this room than in any other in the West. There is an air about the place that puts one at ease–the brick floor, the hewn logs that support the ceiling and frame in the pictures of English country life around the walls, the big, comfortable, black-oak chairs, and the open fireplace, before which spins a roasting goose or turkey.
“Yes, you bet we strike some queer merchants on the road, boys,” said the children’s clothing man. “I ran into one man out west of here and it did me a whole lot of good to get even with him. He was one of those suspicious fellows that trusted to his own judgment about buying goods rather than place faith in getting square treatment from the traveling man. You all know how much pleasure it gives us to trump the sure trick of one of this kind. I don’t believe that merchants, anyway, know quite how independent the traveling man feels who represents a first class house and has a well established trade. Not many of the boys, though, wear the stiff neck even though their lines are strong and they have a good cinch on their business. There isn’t much chance, as a general thing, for any of us to grow a big bump of conceit. A man who is stuck on himself doesn’t last long, it matters not how good the stuff is that he sells. Yet, once in a while he lifts up his bristles.
“Well, sir, a few seasons ago I sold a man–you all know who I mean– about half of his spring bill, amounting to $600. He gave the other half to one of the rottenest lines that comes out of this country. When I learned where my good friend had bought the other half of his bill, I felt sure that the following season I would land him for his whole order; but when I struck him that next season, he said, ‘No, I’ve bought. You can’t expect to do business with me on the sort of stuff that you are selling,’ and he said it in such a mean way that it made me mad as blazes. Yet I threw a blanket around myself and cooled off. It always harms a man, anyway, to fly off the handle. I wasn’t sure of another bill in the town as it was getting a little late in the season.
“After he had told me what he did, he started to wait on a customer and I went to the hotel to open up. Just as I was coming through the office I met another merchant in the town who handled as many goods as my old customer, and I boned him right there to give me a look. ‘All right,’ said he, ‘I will, after luncheon.’ Come down about half past one when all the boys are back to the store and I’ll run over with you.’ You know it sometimes comes easy like this.
“I sold him his entire line, and he was pleased with what he bought because the old line he had been handling, he told me frankly, had not been giving satisfaction.
“Just for curiosity’s sake I dropped in on my old man. I wanted to find out exactly what he was kicking about, anyway.
“‘Now, what’s the matter with this stuff I’ve sold you?’ said I to him.