Tales of the Road Part 21

"The salesman also knows how much business a man is doing,--whether it is a credit business and all the other significant details. The merchant will take the traveling man that he buys goods from, and throw his books and his heart and everything wide open, and tell him how he stands. Even if he is in a little hole of some kind, it is of the traveling man that he asks advice as to how to get out.

"Again, the traveling man knows all about the trade conditions in his customer's town; whether there has been a good crop and prices high; whether the pay roll is keeping up or not; whether there is some new enterprise going to start that will put on more men and boom things.

He knows all about these things, and he is on the spot and has a personal interest in finding out about them, if he is honest, and most salesmen are. It is to his interest to be so. And he can give information to the credit department that n.o.body else can.

"The report of a salesman to his firm is worth forty times as much as these little printed slips that have been sent in by some ninny, numskull reporter for a commercial agency. These fellows, before they go around soliciting reports from merchants, have usually been lily- fingered office boys who have never been in a place where a man can learn much common sense until they have grown too old to get on to things that have come in their way."

"Yes, you bet," spoke up the furnis.h.i.+ng goods man. "They are the fellows who do us boys on the road a whole lot of harm. If the agencies wanted to get men who would know how to secure good, sound reports from merchants, they should hire first-cla.s.s salesmen and send them out instead of office boys.

"The credit man," he continued, "should do another thing. He should not only send to the salesman the letter he writes, but he should confer with the man on the road _before_ he writes. What he should do, if the references the merchant gives return favorable reports and the salesman recommends the account, he should, without going any further, pa.s.s out an order to save himself a whole lot of worry. But it matters not how bad are the reports from any and all sources, the credit man should write the salesman if he is near, or even wire him if he is far away, laying before him the facts and asking for further information and judgment. I once asked our credit man to do this but he kicked because a telegram would cost the house four bits. He hadn't stopped to think that it cost me out of my own pocket from ten to twenty dollars expenses on every order I took. Oh, they are wise, these credit men!

"It is strange, too, that credit men do not average better than they do. If the heads of firms really knew what blunders their credit men make, I believe that two-thirds of them would be fired tomorrow. There isn't any way of getting at their blunders except through the kicking of the traveling man and when he makes a howl, the heads of the house usually dismiss him with, 'You sell the goods and we'll attend to the rest.'

"A really 'broad minded, quick witted, diplomatic, courteous credit man,' as you say, is worth a great deal to a house. They are almost as rare as roses on the desert. Now, just to show you how the credit man and the salesman can pull together, let me give you an example.

"I sold a man a fair bill of goods. I knew he was a straightforward, square, capable man of good character. He was a pusher. I was in a rush and I took from him just a brief statement of his affairs. I wrote the house that I thought well of the man but didn't especially recommend him. You see, if you recommend strongly every man you sell, it is the same as recommending none. So, unless it comes to a hard pinch, I say no more than is necessary. Our credit man got the agency reports on this man, which made him out as no good and having no capital, and a whole lot of things of that sort and he wrote the man refusing to s.h.i.+p the bill. It looked to him that this man's condition was so hopeless that it was unnecessary for him to write me. He simply turned the order down straight out. When I came in and went over my list of turn-downs, I simply broke right out and said to the credit man, 'Here, you've made a bull on this.' 'Do you really think so?'

said he. 'Heavens alive, yes! I know it. Why, this fellow made five thousand dollars last year on a saw mill that he has. He is in a booming country. Maybe he had a little bad luck in the past but he is a hustler and sinks deep into the velvet every time he takes a step now.' 'Why, I am awfully sorry. What shall I do about it?' 'Leave it to me,' said I.

"I wrote out to my man and told him the straight of it, that the agencies had done him a great injustice, and for him to write me personally exactly how he stood and that I would see things through for him in the office; that my house meant him no harm; that he was a stranger to them, but upon my recommendation, if his statement were anything like what I thought it should be, they would fill the order.

At the same time, I suggested that the bill be cut about half for the first s.h.i.+pment.

"Well, sir, that man sent me in his statement showing that he not only had merchandise for which he owed very little, but also over four hundred dollars in the bank. I remember the amount. His statement showed that he had a net worth of nearly eleven thousand dollars,--and that man told the truth. Now, this information he would give me direct, but the house was not able to obtain it elsewhere.

"Now, this is a case, you know, where there is now good feeling all around and this is so just because the credit man paid attention to the salesman."

The outer door of the hotel was opened. In blew a gust of wind. The green leaves of the big palm rustled noisily as we scattered to our rooms, thankful we were not credit men.

CHAPTER XIV

WINNING THE CUSTOMER'S GOOD WILL.

To win the customer's good will is the aim of every successful salesman.

"Ah, but how can I do this?" asks the new man.

The ways must be as many as the men he meets. The dispositions of men are as varied as their looks. A kind word will win one man and a bluff another. A generous deed will go right into the heart of one merchant; another will resent it, thinking that the man who does him a favor seeks only to buy his good will. The one thing, however, that the man on the road must do, and always do, is to _gain the confidence_ of the man with whom he seeks to do business. His favor will as surely follow this as day follows night. The night may sometimes be long, like that at the North Pole, but when day does finally dawn it will also be of long duration. The man whose confidence it is slow for you to gain, will probably prove to be the man whose faith in you will last the longest.

Then, the salesman must not only have the knack of getting the good will of his customer on first sight, but he must also possess patience and, if need be, let confidence in himself be a slow growth. He must do business from the jump when he starts out with samples but, to be truly successful, his business must always grow.

A little group of us, having come back from our trips, fell in together one day at luncheon in Chicago. Our meeting was not planned at all, but before the first of us had forgotten the sting of the tabasco on our Blue Points, so many old friends had foregathered that we had our waiters slide two tables together. There was quite a bunch of us. The last one to join the party was a dry goods man. He was a jolly good fellow.

"h.e.l.lo! Ed, h.e.l.lo!" spoke up all the boys at once. "How are you? Just home? Sorry to hear your old customer out at Columbus finally had to quit business," said the clothing man.

"Yes; so am I," said Ed. "He was a mighty hard man for me to get started with but when once I landed him he was one of the most faithful customers I had. Do you know that for more than eight years he never bought a sou in my line from any other man? It's too bad that he had to leave this world. He was a fine old gentleman. I'll never forget, though, the first time I sold him. I had been calling on him for three or four years. His town was one of the first ones I made when I started on the road--I was not quite twenty, then.

"He always treated me courteously--he was a Southerner, you know--but I couldn't get next to him to save my life. One day as I walked toward his store, a little German band stationed itself just before his door and started in to play Yankee Doodle. I didn't pay any attention to this at the time, but when I went up to shake hands with the old gentleman, as usual, I asked him if there was something in my line he wanted. For the first time in his life he was uncivil toward me. He said, 'No, suh, there is not,' and he turned and walked away. Well, there was nothing left for me to do but to scoot as soon as I could.

"I made a sneak and went into another store but soon I saw there was nothing there for me and I thought I would run over to the hotel, get my traps together and skip town by the next train. I had to pa.s.s by the old man's door again. The little German band was still there. They had quit playing Yankee Doodle but were going it good and hard on 'Marching Through Georgia.' I happened to look into the old man's store and he was pacing up and down behind the counter. A bright idea struck me. I went up to the leader of the band and said, 'Look here, Fritz, can you play Dixie?'

"'Deekse?' said the big, fat Bavarian. 'Vas iss da.s.s?'

"I didn't know much German but I whistled the air and made him understand what I wanted.

"_Ja wohl,_' said he.

"'Then, here,' said I, handing him a cart wheel, 'just you stay right here and give me a dollar's worth of Dixie,--a whole dollar's worth, mind you!'

"Well, he must have understood me all right, for the band promptly began to play Dixie. I didn't know that the old gentleman had seen me talking to the band leader, but he had come to the front door to order the band to move on shortly after I came up.

"I simply stood there, leaning against the store in the suns.h.i.+ne, while the German band blowed away. Well, sir, the fellow that played the clarionet--when he got down to the lively part of the tune-- certainly did make that little instrument sing. They didn't know what Dixie meant but they played it to a fare-ye-well, just the same!

"After a while the old man came to the front door. He saw me standing there in the suns.h.i.+ne. There was a smile on his face as broad as Lake Michigan. Joy spread over his countenance in waves. When he saw me leaning up against the store, he came right out where I was and said, 'Look hyah, suh; I was pow'ful uncivil to you this mo'nin', suh. I want to beg yo' pa'don. No gentleman has a right to insult another, but I was so infernally mad this mo'nin' when you spoke to me, suh, that I couldn't be civil. That confounded Yankee tune just riled me.

You know, I was an old confed'rate soldier, suh. The wah is all ovah now and I'm really glad the n.i.g.g.e.rs are free. The country's lots bettah off as it is now. Since I've been up hyah in this country I've begun to think that Abe Lincoln was a good man and a fair man, and a friend to the nation; but, confound it! ever' time I hyah 'Yankee Doodle' or 'Marchin' Through Georgia,' suh, I put on mah unifohm again and want to fight. It's pow'ful ha'd fo' a man that has woh the gray, suh, to forget the coloh of his old clothes, try as ha'd as he will. I want to be broad-minded, but, confound it! it seems that I cyan't, suh.'

"'Well, you are ahead of me just one generation,' said I. 'I was born in the North and raised up here but my father was a Southern soldier.'

"'What!' said the old man. 'Why didn't yo' tell me this befoh, suh?

Hyah, I've been treatin' yo' like a dog, suh, all this time. And your father was a confed'rate soldier, suh?'

"'Yes, sir,' said I. 'He was under Jackson.'

"'What! Stomal Jackson? Why, suh, a greater man than Stomal Jackson nevah lived, suh. He was a gentleman clean to the co'. Come right in, suh, and sit down. I want to talk to yo' some mo'.

"'Now, you are goin' to pa'don me, suh, fo' my rudeness this mo'nin'.

I want you to say that you will.'

"'Why, to be sure, Colonel,' said I. 'I certainly wouldn't blame you for the same feeling that I know my father had as long as he lived.'

"The little Bavarian band, according to my instructions, kept on playing Dixie so long that the fellow who blew the clarionet began to skip notes and puff. I went out and told them that that was enough of that tune and switched them onto S'wanee River. To the tune of this old air, the Colonel marched me up to his house for dinner.

"We didn't say a word about business, of course, until after we had returned to the store. When we came back there, the old Colonel said to me, 'Now, look hyah,--let me get yo' first name.'

"'Ed,' said I.

"'Well, yo'll have to let me call yo' "Ed." Yo're lots younger'n I am.

I can't do any business with yo' this trip. I have my promise out. I told the man that I've been buyin' dry goods from that I'd give him my o'der fo' this fall but I don't think as much of him as I do of you, and hyeahaftah I am going to give you my business. I know that yo'll see that yo' house treats me right and I would ratheh deal with a man anyway that I have confidence in, suh. Now, you needn't hurry, Ed, about gettin' around hyah next season, suh, because, sho's yo' bawn, upon the wo'd of a Southern gentleman, suh, yo' shall have my business.'"

"You sold him next time?" asked one of the boys.

"You bet your life I did," said Ed. "That man's word was good."

"He was a splendid old gentleman," spoke up another one of the boys.

"Yes," said the clothing man, "I haven't been there for four or five years. He used to have a lovely little girl that sometimes came down to the store with him."

"Well," broke in Ed, "I'm glad that somebody besides myself has a good opinion of her for she is to be my wife next month."