find fault, to exact allowances, and often to demand duplicate shipments. Such men are classed as "chronic kickers," and on account of them business becomes an irksome task, to say nothing of its being unprofitable. If a few cuttings in a lot should happen to be below the standard of excellence, the whole shipment, according to their letters, is worthless. They will instruct you to make a shipment by freight, and when the shipment reaches them in frozen condition they hold you accountable for it. The fact that it might be the fault of the railroad company, and that they might look for redress in that direction, never occurs to them. The shipper must bear the brunt of it all.
If a shipment reaches them a few weeks later than the time specified, their wrath knows no bounds. They will write you most scathing letters, charging you with neglect of your duty, with a lack of interest in your own business, and what not.
Cases of "Chronic Kickers"
I called on a man a few years ago, with whom I was on very friendly terms. It happened to be a cold Winter day; a snow blizzard was raging. I entered his place about twelve noon, glad to find some protection from the elements, and to thaw out. To my great surprise, the man came at me in this manner:
"I haven't got much time to talk business. I'm going to lunch. And besides, I don't want anything."
I could scarcely believe my ears. I knew that there was something up, and I wanted to know what was the cause of the trouble. After collecting myself, I replied as gently as I could that I had not come to interfere with his lunch, nor was it my policy to urge a man about business when he had none to give; that I hoped he had no objection to my hugging his stove, until I limbered up a bit.
"And anyway," I concluded, "you seem to have it in for me, for some reason; and it is only fair you should tell me what it is all about."
"Never mind," he said, "we'll not talk about it."
But I persisted, and would not let him go to his lunch until he told me wherein I had been at fault. He finally told me that I had disappointed him about Begonia Cincinnati; that he expected the plants in June, and received them in August, and that they were not at all satisfactory at that; that he was through, with me forevermore.
"Mr. X," I said, "in so far as your future business is concerned, you have the privilege of placing it where you please. I shall not urge you about it. But let me reason out the matter with you, and put you in the right light. Do you suppose for a moment that it pays me to travel, to incur traveling expenses, to do hard work, with a view to disappointing my customers? Don't you think that I'm the loser when things do not turn out as I expected? Do you think that I am to blame if the season was unfavorable for Begonias, or if the grower on whom I depended so much, and with whom I placed an order a year in advance, for some reason neglected his plants, and thereby impaired the value of his stock? Don't you think that it would have paid me far better if you had received your plants on time and were now in a happier frame of mind than you seem to be? And how would you like it if a customer of your own, one whom you have tried to serve well season after season, had suddenly withdrawn his trade because through no fault of your own you happened to disappoint him about a porch box, a vase in the cemetery, or a bunch of American Beauty Roses which you expected from Chicago, and which failed to reach you in time to deliver to your customer? Don't you think, yourself, that such treatment would be unfair to you?"
But Mr. X was adamant, and no reasoning could conquer his resentment. I have ceased calling upon him.
