“Sure, in a second.” He paused. “Cara, about that date…”
“Griff—” she started.
“I thought—”
“I’m awfully sorry,” she said, “but I’ve already made a date for this Saturday and—”
“You did?” he asked, hoping his relief didn’t show.
“Well, you disappeared suddenly and Mac was so very nice to me.” She paused awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Griff.”
Griff smiled. “Oh, that’s all right,” he said. He could not bring himself to tell her that he’d wanted to back out. There was something dishonorable about stealing her thunder. “Do you want to buzz Joe?” he asked.
“You’re not angry?”
“No, have a good time,” he said. It bothered him that her date was with McQuade, but he certainly had no right to tell her what company she should keep. She buzzed Manelli, and Manelli asked her to send Griff in. He smiled, walked to the door, squared his shoulders, and entered.
“Hello, Griff,” Manelli said pleasantly. “Come on in, boy.”
He was momentarily taken aback by Manelli’s genial attitude. If a man was going to fire you, he certainly didn’t conceal the dagger behind a smiling face, did he?
“Sit down, Griff,” Manelli said. “Cigar?”
“No. Thanks, Joe.” He sat in the easy chair alongside Manelli’s desk.
“Well, now,” Manelli said, “let me see. Oh yes, the, cost cards.”
An immense feeling of relief swept over Griff. He knew he was not going to be fired, and the news affected him like a reprieve from the governor.
“What about the cost cards?” he asked.
“Nothing serious,” Manelli assured him. “I’ve just been feeling a little guilty. Guess we all feel a little guilty every now and then, eh? Here I am comptroller of Julien Kahn, and, by God, it’s time I started earning my keep, don’t you think?”
Griff shrugged and smiled.
“So, here’s what I’d like. Before you establish a selling price on any shoe, I’d like to approve the cost cards. Now, I’m not checking up on you or anything, but I’m trying to anticipate any possible beefs from Chrysler, and—”
“Well, I usually work pretty closely with Chrysler, anyway,” Griff said. “I mean… well, Joe, they’ve got to sell the damned shoes, so price is pretty important to them, too.”
“Naturally, naturally, but — as I say — I don’t want any beefs from them.”
“Well, we haven’t had any so far,” Griff said. His relief was giving way before a nagging sort of annoyance. The Cost Department ran very smoothly, and it would sure as hell not run as smoothly if every cost card had to go to Manelli for approval before any action could be taken.
“No, but you never know when a beef will come, do you?” Manelli asked. “So, I’d like to approve all those cards before you do any pricing. I’m sure that won’t upset your routine too much.”
“Well, Joe, to tell the truth—”
“I hate to rush you out like this, Griff, but I’ve got to run down and discuss a few things with Boris. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Joe—”
“Might be a good idea to let me see the cost cards whenever any are ready, eh? I imagine you’ll have some for me on the intermediate line soon, won’t you?”
“I’m working on those now,” Griff said.
“Good. Let me see ’em, eh?” He rose and patted Griff’s shoulder affectionately. “Now scram so I can see the Hengman.” He chuckled and then practically shoved Griff out of the office.
Griff mulled over Manelli’s request on his way down the corridor. A cost card was a fairly complicated document. It was a necessary bit of drudgery that accompanied every pattern the factory ever made or would make. Actually, the cost card was the basis of all pricing, pricing generally being the simple process of adding a fair margin of profit to the cost of the shoe. Griff, in cooperation with Morris Davidoff — the company’s wizard material surveyor — was in charge of listing the material costs. Sal Valdero, when Griff was finished with the card, itemized the labor costs. When the card reached Griff again, he was able to establish a tentative selling price for the shoe, a price he then discussed with Sales, if discussion were called for.
Everything was on that cost card. The itemized costs of sock lining, leather lining, faille lining, backstay, drill and fleece, tufsta and underlay, piping and stripping, elastic gore, tape, thread, nailheads, cement, box toes, platform covers, leather shanks, steel shanks, welting, heels, toplifts, embossing, laces and ribbons, cleaning chemicals, boxes, buckles and ornaments, finishing supplies, hell, everything and anything that went into the final package the retailer received.
What on earth did Manelli know about any of this? If Griff and Davidoff had to muster their combined factory knowledge, experience, graphs, charts, and figures to come up with a decent estimate, how could Manelli — fresh out of Accounting — hope to approve or disapprove their estimates with any measure of efficiency?
How could Manelli possibly dispute, say, seventeen cents/two mills as the cost of an insole cover? How could he possibly know? Davidoff knew how much leather the insole cover would take. Griff knew the cost of that leather. Together, they could work it out. What was there for Manelli to approve or disapprove?
The entire idea was fantastic, and, when Griff’s relief over not having been fired had evaporated, there remained only this request, and the stupidity of it, and the delay it would cause. Suppose Manelli didn’t get to the cards the moment they were delivered? What was supposed to happen then? Costing would delay pricing and pricing would delay production! Damn, this was simply foolish.
When Marge saw his face, she went to him instantly.
“What is it, Griff?” she asked.
“Not what we thought. Manelli wants to approve all my cost cards before prices are established.”
Marge sighed heavily. “Oh, thank God.”
Aaron looked up from his desk suspiciously. “Hey,” he said, “what is it with you two? Ever since Monday, you’ve been—”
“You just hush,” Marge said. “Are you annoyed, Griff?”
“Sure, I am. What the hell does that idiot know about costing?”
“He wants to check all the cost cards?” Aaron asked.
“Yes.”
Aaron cocked his head. “That’s peculiar.”
“Peculiar? It’s moronic.”
“Well,” Marge said, “go along with it. It probably won’t last very long.”
Griff sighed, still troubled. “There’s not much else I can do,” he said.
So he went along with Manelli’s request, and at the close of that Friday, he brought his cost cards to Manelli’s office, still thinking the request both peculiar and moronic, but never once considering it the opening gun in a suddenly declared war.
On Monday the distant rumble of artillery came a little closer.
Ed Posnansky called from the Chrysler Building at ten o’clock. Marge answered the phone, and then informed Aaron the call was for him. Aaron promptly picked up his extension, exchanged the customary cordial greeting, and then got down to listening, interjecting an occasional “Uhhuh,” or “Yes, I see.” He ended the call with an “All right, Ed, I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then he hung up.
“What was that?” Griff asked.
“Big to do at Chrysler,” Aaron explained. “Seems one of the other houses was showing a pump with a lucite heel during Guild Week, and everybody at Chrysler thinks they’ve stolen a march on us. Posnansky thinks we can make a similar pump, provided we can get the heels. He wants to discuss getting a sample up. Hengman’ll be there, and our heel man, and some people from Fashion. He wants Cost in on it, too.”
“Oh,” Griff said.
“Say,” Aaron said, “why didn’t he ask you to come along, too?”