Erl Gardner - The Big Squeeze [story]

Pete Quints a fast-thinking, chain-lightning supersalesman, but I still claim it was the liar with the one gall us who gave us our opportunity or perhaps it was opportunity that gave us the liar.

Pete says its only once in a hundred years that opportunity really knocks. Most of the time shes hiding under the bed, or standing right behind you when youre beefing about how bad business is.

He says a good salesman never waits for opportunity to knock, anyway, but goes out ringing doorbells. That way he calls on her before shes ready to start out on her own round of door-knocking.

Pete and I are partners. Right now were in Los Angeles looking for lines. We already represent a tire company and a milk-bottle concern, but Pete isnt satisfied. He wants to be a full-fledged manufacturers agent. So weve hired salesmen to do the leg work, and the overheads eating us up. Good lines are as hard to find as gold mines.

Were at breakfast. Petes reading the distinguished-guest list at the hotels. He says lots of times a man can get a good lead that way.

All of a sudden his eyes get bright. Look, Ed; L. F. Doolittle, vice-president of the Puckley Air-Conditioner Company, has been at the Rose Bowl Hotel for the past three days.

Whats that to us? I ask.

Pete says, Buckleys a good outfit. Their business has been growing. They have a coast distributor. Now, why should Doolittle have been here three days? Ill bet their coast distributors got more territory than he can handle.

Probably just a trip of inspection.

Not if hes been here three days. Pete shoves his hand down in his pocket, pulls out his change and picks out a nickel. He says, The only man who cant win is the one who doesnt play, and heads for the phone booth. I know its just another nickel wasted. Doolittle wont even listen. But you cant argue with Pete. And while Im sitting there alone, the waitress brings the check.

Doolittles chins hang over his collar, but he has keen eyes, a catfish mouth and close-clipped speech. Do you, he asks, know anything about the desert?

Pete sucks in a quick breath. We know all about the desert, Mr. Doolittle.

Doolittle scratches his head. I like your style, he admits. Your record is impressive, taking what you say at its face value. Our distributor here has too much territory. He cant possibly cover the desert, and the Refrigerheat Air-Conditioning Company is beating our time. Their outfit wont do what they claim, but theyre cleaning up. We need desert representation, and need it badly. If I only knew a little more about you

Pete never believes in a canned approach, but he has half a dozen different stock lines all his own. Now he interrupts with his showdown clincher line, Mr. Doolittle, whats the use of talking? No matter what I tell you, its still just talk. You want orders. We want commissions. Give us a territory on trial. If within thirty days we dont develop three times as much business as you think the territory is capable of producing, we dont want your line.

Doolittle reaches in his brief case, takes out a map, says, Brother, you asked for this, and its going to be tough. He starts filling out a contract.

After we sign up, Doolittle gives us a complete demonstration, loads us down with literature, gives us the low-down on competitive products, and is getting ready to take us over to his distributors to coach us on installation when the phone rings.

He answers, says, Very well, send her up, and turns to us. This may be embarrassing. A Miss Bernice Johnson wrote she has connections in Sandyville, which is now in your territory, and thinks she could sell several units. Naturally, we couldnt give a distributors contract to a young woman with no previous experience. However

Sure, Pete interrupts, well talk to her.

Bernice Johnson is a trim little package with long-radius curves. Shes too game to let us see any disappointment as Doolittle tells her about our contract. He introduces us, and Pete goes to work.

Miss Johnson, he says, if you have any leads in Sandyville, well make the sales and pay you a commission.

She says no. She has connections, but shes going to sell units on which she can get a full distributors contract. She starts for the door.

Pete sits her down at the desk and says, Youll want your friends in Sandyville to buy the best. It would cheapen you if you sold them an inferior product. Now, if youll give me five minutes, Ill show you

It doesnt surprise me, because I know Pete, but Doolittle stands back with his jaw propped up by the knot in his necktie, watching Pete do his stuff.

By the time Petes finished, shes given him everything, including a letter to her father, Ole Johnson. He owns the Banner mine, which is Sandyvilles best bet. Although there are some neighboring mines, Johnson keeps a hundred men employed, and the picture show, pool hall, hotel and saloon will all be influenced by Ole. If he says, Puckley air conditioners, thats what itll be.

Its morning on the desert. The long mountain shadows are still purple valleys. Big saguaros push grotesque arms into nightmare silhouettes. Smoke trees look like balls of mist hanging in the still air, ready to float away on the first breeze.

The old gas hog is doing her stuff, and as nearly as I can tell from the road map, itll be ten oclock when we get to Sandyville. Bernice Johnson has told us to start in on a man by the name of Grandis, who owns the movie theater.

Whys Miss Johnson so anxious for commissions if her dad owns a gold mine? I ask Pete.

He says, Ole Johnson is a plunger. Hes thrown every cent he could scrape together into buildings and machinery borrowed up to the hilt. Theres a younger sister in college. Bernice thinks there should be some family eggs that arent all in one basket. She wants to start a business of her own.

Im thinking that over as we speed up to a chap in faded blue overalls that are held up by one suspender. Hes walking east, and the way his feet move up and down, I know hes accustomed to covering long stretches by leg power.

I tell Pete, Lets give the optimist a lift.

What makes you think hes an optimist?

The lone suspender.

We pick him up, and he turns out to be the best catch-as-catch-can liar in seven counties. Hes about fifty-eight, with desert-bleached eyes and a walrus mustache. Hes going as far as Westland, and he tells his lies in a slow drawl, as though he didnt particularly care whether we believed him or not.

His name is Lingar, and he starts the ball rolling by telling how smart his burros are. He says they watch the flour sack, and when it gets almost empty they know its time to go to town, so they hide out in the brush. Then Lingar has to waste a lot of time finding them. But I got em fooled, he goes on in that slow drawl. I got a sack an padded it with excelsior. When the flour begins to run low, I stuff that dummy in the flour sack, and the burros think Im all provisioned up. They stick right around camp, and taint no trouble at all to catch em. Heh-heh-heh!

Pete gives me a quick glance. Any new sales trick interests him, and I can see the idea of using a slow drawl when youre putting over a fast one is something hes going to remember.

Get hot around here? I ask, just making conversation.

Lingar says, Well, now, wait a minute, boys, I wont say definitely about right here, and he looks around as though trying to get his exact latitude and longitude. Im a truthful man, and I aint a-goin to say anything that aint so. Right here, boys, I aint spent a summer, so I dont know.