Mason drew on him for one thousand dollars, and obtained two five hundred dollar bills, one of which, after duly cautious preliminaries, he handed to the cashier, the other to the auditor of the Phosphate National. Again, after duly cautious preliminaries, they accepted. These two gentlemen had been detailed a committee to draw up for the convenience of the bank's Board of Directors an analytical syllabus of the differing propositions offered by the competing insurance companies. The Eastern Life got the Phosphate National's business, followed by that of its subsidiary, the Trust & Savings Bank, and Mason got Mr. Silverman's congratulations.
Two days later Silverman walked unexpectedly into Plaisted's office. Plaisted, who had just that instant signed his name to a letter addressed to his visitor in New York, was rattled.
"Mr. Plaisted," said Mr. Silverman, biting off the end of a three-for-a-dollar, "I have found out what is the trouble, that is, the main trouble with your agency here."
Plaisted winced. He hadn't realized that there was any trouble, and certainly not any main trouble with his agency. "Yes, Mr. Silverman."
"You're undermanned."
"Why, yes—perhaps. I've thought of breaking in a few new agents this winter."
"No," said Silverman, "I mean you're undermanned at the top. Weak on the executive side."
"Oh," said Plaisted.
"You need new blood, new ideas, new life, hustle," he snapped his fingers with each successive word—"speed—force—energy—vigor— enterprise—vitality—dynamics—do you get me?"
"I—yes—I'm sure I do," answered Plaisted, in considerable apprehension.