hour. Of course,” I added, “with the way accounts are rolling in, the chances are this amount will be increased very soon. But for the time being, I can almost guarantee, as I said, I can almost guarantee you forty cents an hour. And we work, I might add, from nine to six, with one hour off for lunch. This is not a dress house, and we don’t keep dress-house hours. Eight working hours a day, five days a week. No working late nights and no work Sundays, or Saturdays, unless it’s something special.”
I turned to Tootsie and then, as though I had remembered something. I turned back to them.
“Oh, yes,” I said, “there’s just one more thing, before I forget.” Before I forget was good. Any time you catch me forgetting anything like this, just let me know. “Each one of you will have to deliver your first ten packages free, to pay for this.” I pulled a cap out of the drawer of one of the desks and held it up. I had designed it myself, and it was a beauty. Red flannel, with a yellow band running around the edge, a stiff, black patent-leather visor, and right above it, standing up straight, so that it could be read easily, a metal plate with the words NEEDLE TRADES DELIVERY SERVICE, INC. engraved on it. For a moment I was sorry I hadn’t called it the “Harry Bogen Delivery Service, Inc.” “This is the only item of uniform that you have to wear,” I said, “and we let you have them at cost price. They cost us one dollar and that’s what we let you have them for. The price will be deducted from your first week’s salary. Now, let’s see, is there anything else?”
I scratched my head and squinted at the ceiling, pursing my lips at the same time, the way all executives do.
“Well, then, I guess there’s nothing else. Remember, you report here every morning at nine and get your assignments from Mr. Maltz or myself. When you get through with your assignments, you come back here for more. I might add, men, that the success of our business, as well as the size of your weekly pay check, depends upon the speed and efficiency with which we do our work. The quicker you deliver the packages you get, the better pleased the customer is going to be and the sooner you’re going to get another set of assignments, which means the more money you’ll have at the end of the week. Any questions?”
“Yeah.”
A big guy, whose face I remembered seeing at one or two of the meetings in the Pythian Temple, got up slowly.
“What is it?”
“You say we’ll be making about forty cents an hour?”
“About that. Yes.”
“And we work eight hours a day?”
“It looks that way now. From the amount of business we have booked right now, it looks like you’ll all be kept busy about eight hours a day. Of course, you realize how those things are. There’s no telling what—”
“But about eight hours, no?”
I nodded.
“That means a little over three dollars a day, doesn’t it? Eight times forty is three-twenty. A little over three dollars a day, right?”
I nodded again.
“And five days a week, means about fifteen dollars a week, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but about fifteen, no?”
“That’s right,” I said.
Well, at least here was one that knew how to multiply.
“Well, gee whiz,” he said, like Columbus discovering that he wasn’t in India but somewhere south of the Bronx, “that means we’re no better off than we were before we went out on strike. It’s the same fifteen dollars.”
It looked like somewhere, I don’t know just where, but somewhere in the shuffle, this bright lad had gotten the impression that the Needle Trades Delivery Service, Inc. had been organized for the purpose of seeing to it that shipping clerks should receive more money. I toyed with the idea of breaking the news to him that he was wrong, but I decided against it.
“We can’t help that ,” I said.
The hell with them. If they didn’t like being shipping clerks, then let them take a crack at
I turned to Tootsie and then, as though I had remembered something. I turned back to them.
“Oh, yes,” I said, “there’s just one more thing, before I forget.” Before I forget was good. Any time you catch me forgetting anything like this, just let me know. “Each one of you will have to deliver your first ten packages free, to pay for this.” I pulled a cap out of the drawer of one of the desks and held it up. I had designed it myself, and it was a beauty. Red flannel, with a yellow band running around the edge, a stiff, black patent-leather visor, and right above it, standing up straight, so that it could be read easily, a metal plate with the words NEEDLE TRADES DELIVERY SERVICE, INC. engraved on it. For a moment I was sorry I hadn’t called it the “Harry Bogen Delivery Service, Inc.” “This is the only item of uniform that you have to wear,” I said, “and we let you have them at cost price. They cost us one dollar and that’s what we let you have them for. The price will be deducted from your first week’s salary. Now, let’s see, is there anything else?”
I scratched my head and squinted at the ceiling, pursing my lips at the same time, the way all executives do.
“Well, then, I guess there’s nothing else. Remember, you report here every morning at nine and get your assignments from Mr. Maltz or myself. When you get through with your assignments, you come back here for more. I might add, men, that the success of our business, as well as the size of your weekly pay check, depends upon the speed and efficiency with which we do our work. The quicker you deliver the packages you get, the better pleased the customer is going to be and the sooner you’re going to get another set of assignments, which means the more money you’ll have at the end of the week. Any questions?”
“Yeah.”
A big guy, whose face I remembered seeing at one or two of the meetings in the Pythian Temple, got up slowly.
“What is it?”
“You say we’ll be making about forty cents an hour?”
“About that. Yes.”
“And we work eight hours a day?”
“It looks that way now. From the amount of business we have booked right now, it looks like you’ll all be kept busy about eight hours a day. Of course, you realize how those things are. There’s no telling what—”
“But about eight hours, no?”
I nodded.
“That means a little over three dollars a day, doesn’t it? Eight times forty is three-twenty. A little over three dollars a day, right?”
I nodded again.
“And five days a week, means about fifteen dollars a week, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but about fifteen, no?”
“That’s right,” I said.
Well, at least here was one that knew how to multiply.
“Well, gee whiz,” he said, like Columbus discovering that he wasn’t in India but somewhere south of the Bronx, “that means we’re no better off than we were before we went out on strike. It’s the same fifteen dollars.”
It looked like somewhere, I don’t know just where, but somewhere in the shuffle, this bright lad had gotten the impression that the Needle Trades Delivery Service, Inc. had been organized for the purpose of seeing to it that shipping clerks should receive more money. I toyed with the idea of breaking the news to him that he was wrong, but I decided against it.
“We can’t help that ,” I said.
The hell with them. If they didn’t like being shipping clerks, then let them take a crack at
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