The Spiked Heel

“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, sir,” Griff said, smiling, “there’s a pretty interesting story behind that. You see, before the industry began using cement on the shoe soles — remember, you saw the assembly belt downstairs where that leather cushion inflates and presses the glued sole to the inner sole?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, before the industry took to using cement, each shoe was hand-turned. That meant that the sole had to be tacked and then stitched to keep it in place. Frankly, we turned out a hell of a good shoe then, much better than we get with cement. You ask any of the old shoemakers on the floor, and they’ll tell you. Well, before the sole was stitched, it was tacked in three places. At the toe, in the center of the sole, and again where the instep breaks. Later, when the shoe was almost finished, those three small tacks were pulled. But they left three holes in the sole, three small holes, true, but three somewhat ugly holes. Someone got the idea of dressing up those holes, sort of ‘finishing’ them, to give the shoe a smoother look. The eagle-eyer came into existence then. He dotted each of those small holes with a small hot iron, finishing them, making them a part of the completed shoe. After a while, those three dots in the sole became associated with a quality shoe. When a woman turned over a shoe and spotted those three dots, she knew the shoe was a good one.”

“That’s very interesting,” McQuade said.

“Naturally, when we began using cement, there was no need for tacking the sole any more, and really no need for the dots, either. But milady had grown used to the dots, had come to look for them. We cut out the dot at the toe, figuring we’d save time and expense, but we left the other two dots, as a sort of quality shoe trademark.”

“Those dots, in other words, serve no real purpose.”

“Yes, they do,” Griff said. “In addition to identifying the shoe as a quality product, Mr. McQuade, we want that shoe to look as good underneath as it does on top. When you turn over a Julien Kahn shoe, you don’t just get a monotonous flat sole stretching out before your eyes. You get our eagle-eye treatment, a tiny dot on the center of the sole, and another just where the instep breaks. Those dots… well, they just break the monotony of the sole, that’s all.” He spread his hands wide. “Quality, Mr. McQuade.”

“You’re kidding me,” McQuade said softly.

“Sir?”

“I said you’re kidding me. You do hear well, Mr. Griffin?”

“Well… well, sure I do. No, I’m not kidding you, Mr. McQuade. That’s why those dots are burned into the sole. Those are the only reasons.”

“And is that all that fellow does?”

“Yes, that’s all.”

“Is he on piecework?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“How much is he paid?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly. I can check with Payroll, if you like.”

McQuade smiled suddenly, looking up from his coffee container. The smile erupted all over his face, making him seem somehow larger than he actually was. “No, no need to do that, no need at all. Forget I even mentioned it, Mr. Griffin.” He slid off Aaron’s desk and walked to the desk Marge had requisitioned for him. “Say, this is certainly a good-looking desk, Miss Gannon. You people get things done in a hurry, don’t you?”

“I’m glad you like it,” Marge said. She smiled broadly.

“Oh yes, I do,” McQuade said. He rubbed his palm over the polished top of the desk, as if trying to absorb the veneer of it. He nodded abruptly then and went behind the desk, sitting in the swivel chair there. He seemed to dwarf everything with which he came into contact. His body seemed too big for the desk and certainly too big for the chair. “Today was quite an experience, Mr. Griffin. I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

“Oh, there’s no need to…”

“I’m afraid you think I’m an impossible incompetent, though. I must admit I was somewhat dazzled by the operation. You people are doing a tremendous job here, tremendous.” He nodded his head, and then touched the cleft in his chin with his forefinger, rubbing it thoughtfully, almost as if he were trying to erase an invisible spot. “It’s…” He left his chin suddenly, bringing his fingers together into a cathedral. “It’s a lot to absorb, all in one day. I hope you’ll forgive my seeming stupidity.”

He seemed waiting for Griff to contradict him. When Griff started to say, “Oh, no…” he interrupted.

“No, really, Mr. Griffin… say, do I have to keep calling you that? I hate formality with a vengeance. Miss Gannon calls you ‘Griff,’ I notice. Would it be all right if…?”

“Oh, certainly,” Griff said.

“All right, Griff,” McQuade said, “man to man. It’s one hell of a job tring to absorb the separate job each man does. One hell of a job. In a factory of this size… well, how many men would you say were in the operation, Griff?”

“About fifteen hundred,” Griff said.

“Well, there you are. And what’s our pairage per day right now, Griff?”

“We’ve been hitting twenty-six hundred,” Griff said.