The Spiked Heel

“Griff,” Manelli interrupted, “I’m here to learn. I won’t dispute the fact that you know a hell of a lot more about our operation than I’ll ever know, and don’t think I won’t be counting on your experience heavily in the weeks and months to come. But really, and admit this, Griff, I know you’re big enough to admit it, don’t you feel this request is really a very simple one? I mean, and tell me the truth, Griff couldn’t your department and Production and IBM get used to this new system in a matter of days? Now, really, is ‘gray and white’ so difficult to learn? G is one, and r is two, and a is three, and so on, and so on. Now, is that really so difficult to learn, is it really? Come, now, Griff, are you going to oppose one of my first official acts as comptroller?”

“That’s not the point,” Griff said, beginning to lose his patience. “Joe, look, there’s… there’s just no sense to it, even after we’ve memorized the stu… the thing. Who are we protecting the prices from? Who the hell would want—”

“People,” Manelli said, smiling.

“People? What people? Who gives a damn what we price our shoes at? Are you thinking of the competition? Joe, you know as well as I do that’s not a valid argument. All De Liso has to do is shop at any retail outlet. He takes our retail price, deducts forty-four per cent and he’s got our invoice price. So what are we trying to hide?”

“Ah, but does De Liso know that?” Manelli asked.

“Does De Liso know what?”

“That there’s a forty-four per cent markup on our shoes?”

“Well, he damn well ought to,” Griff said. “He’s been in business for a long time now.”

Manelli shrugged. “If he does know it,” he said, avoiding Griff’s penetrating stare, “there’s not much we can do about it, is there? But if he doesn’t… ah, that’s a horse of a diferent color. If he doesn’t know, we’re not going to hand him the information on a silver platter, not by a long shot. He’s going to have to work for it. Now isn’t that sensible, Griff? Tell me the truth, is that not sensible?”

Griff was astonished. “No,” he said, “it’s not sensible. To tell you the honest truth, Joe, it’s plain stupid!”

Manelli raised his eyebrows in shocked aloofness.

“Don’t you see, Joe? There just isn’t any secret to guard. The price of a shoe isn’t something—”

“We had to use a instead of e, if you were wondering about the spelling,” Manelli said, “so that no two letters would be repeated. A really remarkable set of words, you know.”

“Joe,” Griff said, sighing, “please don’t give me the brush-off. I’m asking you to toss this idea out. It’s only going to—”

“Say, I’d better hurry if I want to—”

“…foul up production, and if we want to keep hitting twenty-six hundred pairs a day, we can’t afford to fool around with a lot of—”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Griff. I want to raise our pairage. I want to show Chrysler something like twenty-eight hundred, maybe three thousand a day by the end of this month. Think we can do it?”

“Why ask me? Boris gives the cutting orders,” Griff said angrily.

“Ah, yes, but it’s common knowledge you ran interference for G.K. with Chrysler whenever he got into a tight one. I want you to help me, too. Can we hit twenty-eight?”

“It depends on Chrysler,” Griff said. “I suppose so.”

“What’s bothering you? Have you priced a few pairs today under the old setup?”

“I’ve priced three thousand pairs, but that has nothing to do with this damned stupid scheme, Joe! Now, Joe, for Christ’s sake, listen to reason.”

“Forget those pairs,” Manelli said genially. “If they’re what’s bothering you, forget them. Use the new system from now on, okay?”

“Joe—”

“I’ve got to rush, Griff. Stop in some time tomorrow, all right? We’ll talk over the pairage then, and you can tell me how we inveigled Chrysler in the past, eh?” He turned to his secretary. “Cara, I’ll be out for… oh, two hours at the most.”

“Yes, sir,” Cara Knowles said.

“Come on, Griff, snap out of it,” Manelli said, smiling with his weak immature mouth. “Cheer up.” He patted Griff on the shoulder and walked out of the office.

“That stupid son of a—” Griff started. He remembered the girl abruptly. “Excuse me,” he said.

“It’ll work out,” Cara answered.

“Yeah,” Griff said dully.

“No, really, Mr. Griffin. You’d be surprised how quickly people get accustomed to new ideas.”

Griff nodded sourly. “That’s what Ilse Koch said when she began making lampshades.”

He ran into Danny Quinn after lunch that day.

Danny came limping through the Credit doorway as Griff hurried past, still burning with the memory of his encounter with Manelli.

“Hey,” he said, “what’s the hurry?”

“Oh, hi, Danny,” Griff said. Danny’s presence somehow always helped dissipate his anger. Danny had a narrow smiling face with bright blue eyes and unruly brown hair. Griff had helped him get the job in Credit more than a year ago, using his influence with Magruder, the head of the department. He had known Danny for a long time, had known him since before the Korean fracas, when Danny could walk without a limp.