“Is this your first trip?”
Now, why in thunder should he have asked that? Did I look different from other traveling men? I felt as if he showed very bad taste in asking such a question and I made a note to never do it unless I wanted to be mean. But I told Blissam (that was his name) that it was my first trip.
“Then you'll find Rossmore a tough place to tackle.”
I said we had three customers there.
“So have we; so has every dealer that ever went there. They buy a handful of goods of everybody, and they buy most goll-darned cheap. They'll lie to you until your head swims. First, there's Fisher; keeps an eating room on the main floor and gun store upstairs. I'll go in and quote him Remington guns at $36, when you call he'll ask your price; if you say $36, he'll tell you that you're high, and he'll break you down in spite of yourself.”
“But when a fellow gets to the bottom he's got to stop,” said I.
“Oh, there's no bottom to guns. It's the meanest business in the world, and it used to be the best. In '70-'73 I could make big profits as easy as a duck swims, but now it's all glory. I sold Simmons a bill of $600 last week, and made exactly eighteen dollars.
“Oh, well,” said I, “you can't expect to make much on Simmons, but there are lots of places where you do make a good profit now.”
“No, sir; it can't be done. Say, are you going to cut prices much at Rossmore?”
“Not at all, if I can help it. I'm out on the road to make money, and not to show big sales. But I'm afraid your house will overshadow mine.”