“I can explain what I mean by showing you this letter,” said Mr.
Shively. “Here is a line of goods I proposed to handle, and wrote the
manufacturer for prices. He has advertised them largely, but has not
worked up a very large sale as yet, though he has succeeded in making
them pretty well known. He writes me he will discount 35 and 5 per
cent., and adds: 'Please do not quote or sell at better than 30 and 5.'
What does he take me for? The list is $12; 35 and 5 off brings the net
price to $7.41, and if I sold at 30 and 5 off, I get $7.98, or 6
per cent. on the investment, and I pay freight out of that! But this
manufacturer thinks I am liable to cut under $7.98, so kindly cautions
me against doing it. He must have a mighty queer idea of a merchant's
profits.”
“What would you do if you were in the manufacturer's place, to begin
with?” I asked.
“First decide on a fair retail price. Every article must first be judged
on this basis. It is not 'What will the jobber pay for this?' that
decides the cost of goods, but 'What will this retail at?' Having
decided this, then settle on a discount from this price that will pay
the retailer a fair profit, and in quoting prices to the retail trade
stick pretty close to this. Then the jobber should have a margin of 15
per cent. at least, and yet be able to sell retailers at my price.”
“But suppose the goods will not allow all this.”
“They must allow it if they are to be handled by the trade in a regular
way, and they will always allow it if proportioned aright; but what I
complain of is that so many manufacturers are unable to comprehend the
jobber's position. Here is a sheep-shear that is advertised to consumers
at $1.25 per pair; the maker says the lowest he can sell at and make a
small margin is $8 per dozen. There is a good margin between $8, factory
price, and $15, consumer's price, but how is it divided? A retailer
is quoted the goods at $8.65 and the jobber at $8. Don't you see that
common sense would say $10 to the retailer and $8 to the jobber? If the
jobber wants to sell at less than $10 let him do so (he is sure to do
it), but the manufacturer should not.”
“Some houses ignore the jobbers altogether; what would you do with
them?”
“They are all right; I have no fault to find with them; I can meet all
of such competition, and without worrying. No factory can handle my
trade so cheaply as I can. A great deal of my trade no factory can
reach. Salesmen get higher salaries from the factories than we pay. They
only get the trade they drum; there is very little of mail orders
from the small trade sent East; what they need they want quickly. Both
Russell & Erwin and Sargent & Co. have drummed the retail trade for
years, but they have done jobbers no harm, and of late are very anxious
to get the jobbing trade. I don't fear the drummers from the factories,
but I do dread the low quotations they scatter around, because I must
meet their figures.”
Mr. Shively seemed pleased at having a good listener, and had talked
as if enjoying himself. While I was very much interested in his views,
still it is probable I should have acted just the same even if I had
cared nothing about what he said. No higher compliment is paid to a man
than to place him over you as your teacher. I left him after getting a
fair order from him, and passed into a large retail store.
That undefined line between the large retailer and the small jobber is a
delicate one on which to tread. It is rarely that a retailer will buy
of his home jobbers. Every jobber will sell more or less at retail; will
tread on the toes of his retail neighbor, and the latter has a special
desire to buy as low as the jobber does. Much of his stock is bought at
such prices; on a large part he is assured by the salesman that he is
getting as good prices as the largest jobber in the land. If one is not
direct from headquarters it is doubtful ground to walk on, but it has to
be taken care of.
I handed my card to the man whose face seemed to me to show authority
and ownership, and I was not mistaken.
“Guns!” said he, “we don't handle guns.”
“But you do revolvers and cartridges.” I had seen them in the show-case.
“Yes, but we don't sell them. The jobbing houses are retailing at
wholesale prices, and we poor retailers stand no chance.”
“You must retail at wholesale prices, too. You can buy about as close as
they do, and you can do retail business as cheaply as they can.”
“Yes, but don't you see, no matter what our prices are they are retail
prices, and for the same reason their's are wholesale; the idiotic
public loves to be fooled, and will fool itself if no one else takes the
job. What are cartridges worth?”
“Two dollars and ten cents per 1,000 for 22s.”
“Why, I can buy here in town for that!”
“I presume you can; we make no money on cartridges; neither do the
jobbers here or anywhere else.”
“Well, if you can't beat the houses here, how do you expect to sell
goods?”
“Oh, cartridges are but one item in a very long list, and, profit or no
profit, people must have them.”
I always expect a retailer to tell me that I must beat his home jobber,
or he will not buy of me. But I know that this is not often true. He
will not buy of the home jobbers at the same price, for he feels that he
is building up his competitor. I have seen a great many jobbers who had
spent time and money trying to get control of all the trade in their own
city, but I never saw one who did not finally give up in disgust. It is
not human nature to be willing to help build up a man who is in any way
your competitor, and often you would rather pay a trifle more elsewhere
than buy of him. This may not be “business,” but it is human nature, and
there are many places where the latter is by far the stronger.
I undid my sample roll and showed my revolver samples to Mr. R. Almost
every revolver reminded him of something, and I listened to his stories
with the interest of a man who wanted an order.
“There is no trade in the world so mean as this,” said he. “People come
in here for a revolver, and I am almost sure they mean mischief with it.
What am I to do? My refusal to sell one will not prevent their getting
it, yet I hate to sell to them. Of course a large majority of those I
sell are sold to people whom I know, and I know they buy them for proper
use. But a woman will slip in here and slyly ask for a revolver, and I
am wondering if she is going to commit murder or suicide. Many a time a
man looks so woe begone as he buys a pistol that I make some excuse to
keep him from loading it here for fear he will blow out his brains right
in the store.”
“Did anything like that ever happen with you?”
“No, not with me, but it has happened. I read of a man going into a
gun store, buying a revolver, asking the clerk to load it (doing it
all calmly), and then placing it at his temple and falling down dead. I
believe I would go crazy if such a thing were to happen in my store, and
I always worry more or less for fear it may. It's a mean business at the
best; I wish there were no revolvers made. What do you get for this?”
“Two eighty-five.”
“Well, send us six.”
I sold him a fair bill, and then spent the afternoon trying to sell two
other large retailers, but without success. One of the men was snappish,
the other good-natured but full of goods. I did want, very badly, to get
a little order out of them, but when I went to supper I had nothing
from them. After supper I went down to the cross-grained man's store
determined to get so well acquainted with him that I could meet him
again under different auspices.
He looked at me as if he expected to be pestered in some new spot, but
I put him at rest by saying I had a little time to lounge and thought I
could do it there. At this he dropped some of his frowns and began to be
sociable. We talked until I was sure it was long after his shutting-up
time, so I bade him good night, saying I was going off in the night.
“Don't you ever drink a glass of beer or wine?” he asked.
“Try me!”
“All right; let us lock up and go down the street a block.”