We would first get his full name and home address. Then, if he was in business for himself, we would know that, and also where his business was. If he worked for some one else, we'd know it. Then, if he was a plumber, he must state what kind of goods he would most need, and so on. This was my idea. Jock said that builders, carpenters, plumbers and such like would object to that clause. He said they would think it was no business of mine what they bought as long as they paid for it.
I believed, however, that if I had a number of customers likely to use a lot of supplies of a certain kind, it would help me and them if I knew it. I could then buy accordingly.
Further, if I found a man buying a lot of goods quite different from what his card said he used, I'd know there was something wrong and could at once look into it.
The next two items on the card were, of course, the crux of the whole thing. We wanted to pin a man down to a definite credit limit, both as regards time and amount.
With the customer's signature to that card I could easily stop a man's credit if he exceeded his limit in either way.
Betty thought it was an excellent thing,—if I could get it started; and Jock said it was a good plan,—if it worked. I showed a rough draft of it to Barlow at lunch time, and he said it wouldn't work. So, between the lot of 'em I got mighty little encouragement.
Still, perhaps it was best to act on my own judgment. If I was wrong I'd know better next time.
Every credit customer who came into the store was to be passed over to me, and I was going to tell him a little story like this:
"Mr. ——, I've only recently bought this business, and I'm not yet acquainted with all my customers and their needs. Now I see we have an account open with you, and I'm very glad to accommodate you. It will help me to give you good service and to meet your wishes if you will please give me the particulars of your needs."
Then I was going to ask him those questions, fill in the card myself as he answered them and, passing it over to him, I'd ask him if it was all correct. If he said "yes" I'd pass him my pen without a word—and I felt sure he would sign it without a murmur. At least that was my guess.