The Spiked Heel

It was sad in a way, Griff supposed, something like the passing of a royal family, but it was immensely gratifying at the same time. Titanic Shoe was an enormous monster of a company, but it was also an outfit with vigor and force. The business would look up now. There’d be changes, yes, and maybe some people would get hurt when the new broom began sweeping clean, but the business would survive and it wouldn’t be a family business any more (how he hated those words, “family business”). There’d be room for new ideas now, and new—

He broke off his thoughts abruptly. There was still the call from Mike in the Findings Room, and he wanted to clear that up as soon as possible. He gave the operator the extension number.

“Hello?”

“Mike, Griff.”

“Oh, hi, Griff. How goes it?”

“So-so. What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, nothing important. I just wanted to check the price on these buckles we got in. I can’t locate my invoice, and I remember sending a copy to you.”

“Sure, I’ll have Marge get it for you,” Griff said. “Everything okay down there?”

“Waiting to get fired,” Mike said brightly.

“G.K. been around?”

“Not yet. He won’t be hitting the factory, will he?”

“He’ll probably shake hands with all the supervisors,” Griff said, “so you’d better get your crying towel ready.”

“I’ll cry my eyes out,” Mike said.

“Hold on,” Griff answered, chuckling. “I’ll get Marge.”

He went to Marge’s desk and rested his hand on her shoulder, waiting for her to finish typing a column of figures. When she was through, she looked up at him.

“Sir?” she said smartly.

“Mike’s on the phone. Do you remember that copy of the buckle invoice he sent up? He’s lost his…”

“I know where it is,” Marge said.

“Want to read off the prices to him?”

“Sure.” She swung out from under the desk and walked over to the filing cabinet. Just then Aaron rushed into the office.

“Here he comes!” he whispered. “Hey, Marge, you got your poem?”

“Shhh!” she warned.

“I was standing at the Coke machine when he got off the elevator. Boy, he looks sad as hell.”

Griff nodded. “He ought to.”

He hurried over to his desk, picked up the phone, and whispered. “Hey, Mike, let me call you right back,” and hung up.

They fell into a sudden silence. The entire wing of that floor seemed to go silent all at once. They heard the typewriters stop in the fifteen-man Payroll Department and they strained their ears, hoping to catch Kurz’s voice. They heard footsteps in the hallway then, and then Magruder saying something at the door to the Credit Department, and Kurz’s answer, muffled and unclear. Footsteps again, coming closer to their own department, and then George Kurz came to the doorway, a self-conscious smile on his round face.

He was a small balding man who tried ineffectively to cover his baldness by combing long strands of thin white hair over his florid scalp. His scalp and face were perpetually red, as if he’d just come from delivering a harangue someplace, a supposition which was not at all unlikely. He seemed to have lost a good deal of his bluster now, though. His face was still red, of course, but the inner fire behind it seemed to have gone out. George Kurz was a man who knew his word was no longer law, and the knowledge had spread to his dead eyes and slack mouth.

There had been a time when Kurz had only to shout, “Go to hell!” and fifty office workers would rush out to purchase pitchforks and asbestos hats. George Kurz had been hired as company comptroller when the firm acquired the larger New Jersey plant. The plant had cost a hell of a lot of money, but the bank had been willing to be generous, provided their own man was installed as comptroller. Manny Kahn, then president of the firm, had hired Kurz instantly, and Kurz had fallen into a chair well suited to his tyrannical disposition. He was now a tyrant without a sword.

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, looking at the crease in his trousers, and then he stepped into the room.

“Thought I’d stop by to say good-by,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh, are you leaving already?” Griff asked, hoping the joy in his voice did not show.

“Yes, yes, afraid so,” Kurz said.

“Well, Mr. Kurz, we’re certainly going to miss you,” Aaron said.

Kurz looked at him uncertainly. “Yes, well, thank you. And believe me, it’s been a pleasure working with you boys, yes it has. A man couldn’t have asked for more splendid cooperation.” Kurz paused and cleared his throat, and Griff got the impression the entire speech had been rehearsed. “But Joe Manelli will do a fine job,” Kurz said. “You knew Joe was being promoted from the Accounting Department, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Griff said. “We’d heard.”

“Yes, well, he is. You’ll get along splendidly, I’m sure. And, of course, the Titanic Shoe people are just wonderful to work for, wonderful. I think you’ll like them, too.” He paused awkwardly, as if his rehearsed speech had run out before his three minutes were up, and he was wondering what to say next.