All right—now this year, as usual, after making these contracts with their wholesale grocer friends, your company invested its money in tin cans, sugar, boxes, other supplies and materials, contracted for acreage, labor and everything else, bought a large amount of their supplies long before they really needed them, but they must necessarily take no chances on failure. They borrowed money at prevailing high rates to finance it.
Now listen, son, do you remember when you were about nine years old, you wanted me to buy you a shot gun and a lot of other fool-killer arrangements, and you thought I was awfully hard-hearted because I wouldn’t get ’em for you? I would have liked to have gratified your desires, but, boy—it wasn’t good business. So, also, the cancellations—your company would like to “accommodate” their friends by canceling their contracts if it would help them, but it isn’t good business. If they did so, they would be morally bound to cancel every contract, if requested, because they should not do it for a few unless willing to do it for all—they must treat all alike.
You know, everyone admires liberality, and similarly, most people like to be liberal, but don’t get away from the fact that in business you can be liberal only up to a certain point, and after that it becomes damfoolishness; and don’t worry about losing the friendship of the customer requesting cancellation. Any business man will admire you for being a business man instead of a jelly-fish. He knows he has no good business reason for expecting you to cancel and, son, you’ll always make more friends than enemies when you’ve the nerve to stand up under fire when you’re in the right.
Your loving,
“DAD.”
The Boy Has Been Promoted to a “Special” Salesman
Dear Hal:
Yes, I will admit that it begins to look like I never write you any more except when you get a promotion, but I wouldn’t advise you to figure on that too closely, because sometimes I’m liable to fool you.
As a matter of fact I’m not much for writing letters except when I have something to say, and when you were a little fellow I found that while you were susceptible to suggestions and advice, you were very quick to resent overdoses, so I’ve come to look on my letters a good deal like beef extract—a little of it in a whole cup of hot water is a nice thing, but no one relishes the idea of consuming a sixteen-ounce jar at one sitting.