When I go into someone’s store, to buy a nickel’s worth or more, some
questions I may spring; for I have an inquiring mind; all kinds of
facts I like to find, and place them on a string. I ask the grocer if
his tea was grown beside the Zuyder Zee, or down along the Po; and I’m
disgusted when he sighs, and claws his whiskers and replies, “I really
do not know.”
I hold that every business man should follow up the good old plan and
know his stock in trade; the wise old grocer always knew just where his
shredded codfish grew, and where his prunes were made. The wise old
clothier knows that wool is never gathered from a bull, and tells his
patrons so; that merchant wearies by his acts, who answers, when you
ask for facts, “I’m sure I do not know.”
We have a lumber man named Chee; I asked him, “On what sort of tree do
lath and shingles grow?” He said, “We have the shingles there, and
where they grew I do not care, and neither do I know.” This answer
filled me with amaze; he’d handled shingles all his days, and knew not
whence they came; he’d played his hand for forty years, since he was
wet behind the ears, and didn’t know the game.
We have a lumber man named Dumm; I asked him, “Whence do shingles
come--oh, whither, why and whence?” He said, “I’m always glad to tell
the history of things I sell, regardless of expense. The shingle
trees,” I hear him say, “are only found at Hudson’s Bay, and they have
stately shapes; the shingles, which are long and slim, profusely grow
on every limb, in bunches, much like grapes. The natives harvest them
in March when they are firm and stiff with starch, and dry them in
the sun; then they remove the outer husk--which has a gentle smell of
musk--and thrash them, every one. Then they’re sandpapered, piece by
piece, and boiled six weeks in walrus grease, and smoked, like any ham;
and if there’s any more you’d know, about the way the shingles grow,
just ask me--here I am.”
I’ve admiration and respect for one whose knowledge is correct, so I
am strong for Dumm; no matter what you ask that guy, he always has a
prompt reply--and he makes business hum! Men should be ready with a
spiel about the goods in which they deal, excuses won’t suffice; our
estimate is always low of men who never seem to know a thing except the
price.