For the first time I was doing business in a really big way, and I was so full of the size of the order I was to place, I felt sure there was only one leather company that could handle my business, so I pooh-poohed several salesmen whom I met on South Street, and who having heard of our government contract assured me they had blocks of leather I could use to good advantage.
I bought my leather at what I considered a very good figure, had a good lunch at the old United States, and sat around the lobby for a while talking with the shoe and leather men I knew, letting it be pretty generally understood that as a superintendent I was some punkins.
Then on the strength of my wonderful ability as a buyer, I went up town and blew in about $100 on a new outfit for myself and some presents for your Ma.
When I took the train for Georgetown that evening, I ran bang into old Hiram Spinney and as we settled down in the same seat, he began to quiz me about the orders I had placed.
Full of pride because I considered I had bought to the best advantage, I started in to tell the old man what a great superintendent he had, poking a good deal of scorn at the foolish salesmen who had tried to interest me in their small blocks of leather, when I was out to buy a large quantity.
Old Hiram didn't say anything until I got through praising myself, which took some time as I was thoroughly sold on the idea.
When I'd finished, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Didn't even bother to look at those small lots of leather?" he asked.
"Nope, couldn't waste my time on 'em," I replied.