Increased prices.
One disagreeable result of the credit system is the raising of the market price of commodities in order to cover the losses resultant to the trader. Not only do bad debts occur, which have to be written off the books, but being “out of one’s money” for years means loss of interest. Those who pay ready money are sometimes, and should always be, allowed discount off all payments, but even when this is done it does not suffice to meet the claims of absolute justice in the matter, the scales of prices having been adjusted to cover losses owing to the credit system.
The sufferers.
Tradesmen have to charge high rates or they could not keep on their business, and the hard part of it is that the very persons who enable them to keep going by paying their accounts weekly are those who suffer most from the system, paying a fifth or so more than they need were all transactions “money down.”
The other side.
And now for the other side of the question. It has often been said that tradesmen like customers to run long accounts. Let any one who believes this buy a few of the trade papers, and see what they have to say on the subject. Let them visit a few of the West End Court milliners and ask them what their opinion of the matter is. Let them interview the managers of large drapery houses. They will soon find that the tradesman has a distinct grievance in the credit system. Here is what one dressmaker says, and she is only one of a very numerous class, every member of which is in exactly similar circumstances.
A dressmaker’s opinion.
She is a clever and enterprising woman who had opened an establishment for the sale of all kinds of articles for ladies’ wear, and complains bitterly that, though she is doing a good trade, all her money has become “buried in her books.” She is making money with her extending business, “but,” she says, “I really have less command of cash than at any time in my life. The fact is my savings are all lent to rich people.” A case in point.Asked for an example, she said: “The last bill I receipted this morning will do. Ten months ago a lady came into the shop, talked pleasantly on Church matters, in which I am interested, bought nearly £30 worth of goods, after very sharp bargaining, that reduced my profits to the narrowest margin, and went away. To have suggested payment during these ten months would have been regarded as an insult, and I should have lost her custom for ever. I have often been in need of the money. She is the wife of a very high ecclesiastical dignitary, is regarded as philanthropic, talks about self-help among women, and very likely visited my shop in that spirit; yet though she is undoubtedly rich she borrowed £30 of my capital for ten months without paying any interest.”
A second opinion.
“If I could only get a little money in from my customers,” said a hard-worked West End milliner to me one day during a very hot and exhausting May, “I could run off to the seaside or to Scotland for a week, and take my poor old mother, who needs a change even more than I do. But I can’t get any of my ladies to pay.” “Write and tell them how it is,” I suggested. “Oh, no! That would never do,” was the reply. “I should offend them terribly, and they would not only never come back themselves, but would pass the word round among their friends that I am given to dunning.”