“The trouble with you, Quay,” Cutter said brusquely, “is you keep looking for miracles. You think the way to get things in this world is to hope real hard. Nothing comes easy, and I've got half a notion to get those damned silly things jerked out.” He bent over his work, obviously finished with Quay, and Quay, deflated, paced out of the office.
Cutter smiled inside the empty office. He liked to see Quay's enthusiasm broken now and then. It took that, to mold a really good man, because that way he assumed real strength after a while. If he got knocked down and got up enough, he didn't fall apart when he hit a really tough obstacle. Cutter was not unhappy about the efficiency figures at all, and he knew as well as Quay that they were decisive.
Give it another two weeks, he thought, and if the increase was comparable, then they might have a real improvement on their hands. Those limp, jumpy creatures on the desks out there might actually start earning their keep. He was thinking about that, what it would mean to [44] ]the total profit, when Lucile opened his door and he caught a glimpse of the office outside, including the clerk with the sad, frightened eyes. Even you, Linden, Cutter thought, we might even improve you.
The increase was comparable after another two weeks. In fact, the efficiency figure jumped to 8.9. Quay was too excited to be knocked down this time, and Cutter was unable to suppress his own pleasure.
“This is really it this time, George,” Quay said. “It really is. And here.” He handed Cutter a set of figures. “Here's what accounting estimates the profit to be on this eight-nine figure.”
Cutter nodded, his eyes thinning the slightest bit. “We won't see that for a while.”
“No,” Quay said, “but we'll see it! We'll sure as hell see it! And if it goes much higher, we'll absolutely balance out!”
“What does Bolen figure the top to be?”
“Ten percent.”
“Why not thirty-six point eight?” Cutter said, his eyes bright and narrow.