“It’s very nice,” the girl agreed, and went back to her typing.
Griff turned the magazine right side up, skimming through it, looking over the lines the competition was offering. He glanced up at the clock once more and said, “You’d better buzz Joe. It’s eleven-thirty.”
“Oh,” the girl said, seemingly flustered. “Thank you.”
She swiveled her chair around and depressed a lever on the intercom.
Joe Manelli’s voice came from the inner office. “Yes?”
“It’s eleven-thirty, Mr. Manelli.”
“Thank you, Miss Knowles.”
“And… Mr. Manelli?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Griffin is waiting to see you.”
“Griff? I’ll be out in a few minutes. Ask him to wait, will you?”
“Yes, sir.” She flicked up the lever and turned to Griff. “He said—”
“I heard.” He sat back to wait, glancing occasionally at the clock, occasionally at Miss Knowles. She seemed to be a good typist, and she sure as hell had a damned fine profile. What the hell had been the matter with him before?
At eleven-thirty-five, the door to Joe’s private office opened, and McQuade stepped through it. Manelli followed after him, and McQuade took his hand and said, “Thanks a million, Joe, I certainly appreciate all the time you’ve given me. And we’ll work that out, okay?”
“Fine, Mac,” Manelli said. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”
McQuade nodded and smiled and then turned. He spotted Griff and walked to him quickly.
“Morning, Griff,” he said, extending his hand. “Have a good weekend?”
“So-so,” Griff said, taking his hand. “We’ve got those summaries for you, whenever you want them, Mr. McQuade.”
McQuade smiled. “Let’s make it, ‘Mac,’ shall we?”
“All right,” Griff said.
“I’ll look at those summaries later. Incidentally, I imagine the other departments will begin delivering sometime today. If I don’t get a chance to stop by the office… well, I wonder… would you sort of stack them up on my desk, and I’ll look at them when I get a chance?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I don’t want to hold you up. If you’ve got business with Joe, I know he has a luncheon engagement, so…” He spread his hands wide and smiled. “I’ll go snoop around someplace else.” He winked at Griff, glanced disinterestedly at Miss Knowles, and then left the office.
“Well,” Manelli said, “to what do I owe this honor?”
Manelli was a tall thin man with a shock of black hair and tired brown eyes. The eyes were distorted behind a pair of tortoise-rim glasses which were very close to being bifocals. Manelli had been an accountant all his life. He had been head accountant of the firm prior to his recent promotion, and his weak eyes could be blamed on the columns and columns of figures he had studied and restudied during his career. Yes, the weak eyes were a direct reflection of the erstwhile profession of Joseph Manelli, Accountant. His weak mouth was another thing again. His weak mouth was a direct reflection of the personality hiding beneath the pale white skin of Joseph Manelli, Man.
“I just received a memo,” Griff said.
“Oh? Which memo was that, Griff?”
“This code business. This ‘gray and white.’”
“Oh, yes, yes. Got that one already, did you?” He glanced up at the clock. “We’ll have to make this short, Griff. I’ve an appointment at twelve, and I don’t want to—”
“It won’t take a minute, Joe,” Griff said. He paused and considered what he was about to say, remembering that the accountant he had known for such a long time was at present the comptroller of Julien Kahn, Inc. “With all due respect, I don’t think this memo is a practical one.”
“You don’t, eh? Why not, Griff?”
“Well, there’s no real reason for trying to conceal our prices, Joe. This new scheme will only result in a loss of time. Actually, it’ll throw three smoothly functioning departments into a state of mass confusion.”
“Three departments?” Manelli asked.
“Well, yes. The IBM Room makes out the invoices, and they’d—”
“IBM, oh yes, yes.” Manelli blinked. “Well, Griff…”
“Look, Joe, you know we have to work fast in Cost. This code business will only mean unnecessary work, and it’ll mean a slow-down in production for the next week or so, until everyone concerned gets familiar enough with it to make it a working thing. And, even then, Joe, if you’ll excuse my saying so, it’ll be senseless.”
“Well,” Manelli said, “Titanic has been using it with success, Griff, and I thought I’d give it a whirl.”
“Yes, but Kahn isn’t Titanic. You can’t compare a fashion shoe to a casual.”
“Ah,” Manelli said, “but Kahn is Titanic, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Griff said, shaking his head impatiently, “but that’s not what I meant. I meant where it concerns making a shoe. Titanic—”
“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—”