What's in It for Me? Read Free Page A

now.” I spread the grin out a little. “You’re talking to Certain Service now, Mr. Koenig.”
    â€œOh!” he said, waving his hand and smiling with relief. “Like that it’s different. I mean, like that it’s all right.” He laughed quickly. That was in case I should happen to be sensitive. “You know, my salesman, he hands me the card, I see it’s Certain Service, I come out and I expect to find Mr. Pepper, like I all the time find him. But instead Mr. Pepper, I come out and I find—”
    â€œBogen,” I said. “Harry Bogen.”
    Without being too vain about it, it wasn’t a bad change. I’d seen Pepper two or three times.
    â€œI find Mr. Bogen!” he said. He laughed again. “Lemme tell you, you know, it’s a sort of a surprise.”
    â€œI guess it is a little hasty,” I said. “But Mr. Pepper decided to sell out in such a hurry, I didn’t have time to send out announcement cards.
    â€œOf course,” he said. “I understand, Mr.—”
    â€œBogen,” I said. “Harry Bogen.”
    â€œOf course,” he said, shaking his head at himself. “Mr. Bogen. I got such a bad memory for names. Mr. Bogen. Don’t worry, I won’t forget it any—” He stopped and squinted at me. “Say,” he said, “that name sounds a little familiar to me. I don’t know why, but—”
    â€œI used to be in the dress business myself,” I said. “There must be plenty of Bogens around.”
    â€œMaybe that’s how I remember it,” he said. He trained the smile directly on me. “Well, Mr. Bogen, what can we do for you today?”
    â€œWell, I’m a buyer, Mr. Koenig. So I guess you can sell me some dresses. I got clients from Buffalo to Los Angeles laying in their stores with their tongues out, waiting for Koenig & Probst numbers. What do you say we get started?”
    â€œFine.” He clapped his hands and yelled, “Sam!”
    â€œYes, Mr. Koenig?”
    â€œThe line,” Koenig said. “Bring out the rack with the late numbers and let Mr.—”
    â€œBogen,” I said.
    â€œLet Mr. Bogen see the line so he can—”
    â€œYes, sir,” Sam said.
    He disappeared behind the partition and Koenig turned to me.
    â€œHow’s business, Mr. Koenig?” I asked.
    â€œDon’t ask,” he said.
    â€œLousy, eh?”
    â€œIf it gets any worse,” he said, “I’ll maybe go into your business.”
    Once I got started, there wouldn’t be room for two.
    â€œI could wish worse things on you,” I said.
    Sam reappeared, trundling the rack with the sample dresses.
    â€œAll right,” Koenig said. “Now take them off one at a time, Sam, and let Mr. Bogen see what—”
    â€œThat’s all right, Mr. Koenig,” I said. “He doesn’t have to bother. Just leave them on the rack like that.”
    â€œYou don’t want to—?” Koenig began.
    â€œNo,” I said. “I can look at them the way they are.”
    Koenig motioned with his hand to Sam and he disappeared again.
    â€œSay,” Koenig said, “this is the first time I ever had a buyer who didn’t want to—”
    I pulled out the empty chair from under the small table and motioned to it with my hand.
    â€œSit down, Mr. Koenig.”
    He did.
    â€œLet me ask you, Mr. Bogen,” he said curiously, “what are you—?”
    â€œLet me ask you, Mr. Koenig,” I said. I opened my order book and shuffled the pages. “See those orders?”
    He nodded.
    â€œYeah, but—”
    â€œToday,” I said, “I’m in the market for roughly a thousand dresses. I can use that many to fill my orders. And the class of clientele I got, I can use your stuff almost exclusively, Mr. Koenig. Ten-seventy-five stuff.”
    His eyes began to bulge slightly.
    â€œBut—?”
    I