The Screw Test
Adelbert F. Caldwell, The Youth's Instructor, 1922

For three generations the firm of Henderson and Company had been noted in the commercial world for its strict business integrity. Its word was as good as its bond, and anyone who had dealings with the company would take it just as readily.
When the offices of the firm were moved from the low brick building on Exeter Street, facing the water front, to the new uptown skyscraper, a small, inexpensively framed motto that Ezra Henderson, founder of the firm, had caused to be hung in a conspicuous place on the walls, was taken to the new quarters. Desks and all other fixings were left in the old building.

“That is as much a part of the firm as we ourselves,” said Edward Henderson, head of the present firm, to his son Conrad, who was directing the hanging of the somewhat faded motto. “No one to my knowledge has ever worked for us to whom that has not applied. ‘Honesty opens the doors to a successful career. Dishonesty closes them.’” Mr. Henderson slowly turned to some unfinished work on his desk. Presently he looked up.

“It’s a disappointment to me—Floyd Bundy’s leaving. We rarely had in our employ a new man who has taken hold of things as he has, one who has given so much promise. Oh, by the way,” he said, handing the younger man a letter, “read that.”

Conrad Henderson took the letter from his father and quickly ran over its contents.

“Do you know anything about this boy, Mandle?” he asked, looking up.

“Only indirectly,” replied Mr. Henderson to his son’s question. “He belongs to an old family from Welchville. I used to know his father when he was a boy, but it’s been years since I’ve had any trace of him.”

“But we can’t give him a place now?” questioned Conrad, negatively. “Haven’t you already spoken to Fisher Anderson with respect to his taking Bundy’s place?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t engage him permanently, you know. And he might be a misfit. It’s only after giving Anderson a trial that we can tell whether we want him or not. He may not be adapted to all our needs any more than was Thorne Hasbrook.”

“Then you—”

“I’ve been thinking the matter over,” interrupted Mr. Henderson slowly. “I feel that we need more men in the sales department. Bundy had too much to do, nobody will deny that, and the business is constantly growing. Now, my proposal is that we give them both a trial, both Mandle and Anderson, and if they prove the Henderson and Company kind, then we keep them.”

“Then I rather think we’d better regard the matter as settled.” With this, Edward Henderson turned again to some business matters on his desk that demanded his attention. “I do wish you’d see that they are notified—those boys; I shall hardly have time for it myself today. I am obliged to start on my trip East earlier than I’d planned. I think the train leaves around 3:40. Tell them to report for duty on Wednesday, and see that Robinson gives them needed instructions.”

“Very well, I’ll attend to it at once, and then there’ll be no delay.”

“And when I get back,” resumed Mr. Henderson, meaningfully, “either Monday or Tuesday—Monday I think—I’ll apply the screw test. Tell Robinson to explain the fact to the boys that the Mason and Price consignment of screws is worthless, and on no account must they be offered to our customers.”

On Wednesday both of the new boys reported for duty.

“One more thing,” said Mr. Robinson, head clerk in the sales department, and he cautioned Mandle and Anderson against selling any of the screws of the Mason and Price brand. “They are in the drawer to the left of the box of oarlocks—there,” he said, pointing to them. “They are practically worthless. When they are used in hard wood, the heads crumble off just like so much chalk; they won’t stand the pressure of the screw drivers.”

“Why don’t you throw them out or dispose of them in some way, especially if they are no good?” asked Henry Mandle, curiously. “I should think the drawer where they are kept would be needed.”

“It’s a notion of Mr. Henderson’s to keep them,” returned the clerk. “I think he wants to show them to Mason and Price’s agent when he comes around again. The screws are not in the way, however; there’s plenty of room.”

Two days later a woman came into the salesroom to buy some picture hooks.

“Have you any this size?” asked the woman, holding up a picture hook that she carried in her hand.

“Why, yes, I think so,” replied Anderson, who had stepped forward to wait on the customer. “This way, please. We have these; I think they match the one you have. Let me see, yes, they’re just the pattern. How many would you like?”

“Six, I think, will do,” was the woman’s reply.

Henry noticed that when she paid for her purchase, she handed Anderson a fifty-cent piece, and instead of sending it to the casher, as he should have done, he gave the woman some change from his own pocket, and then, after she had left the store he shot up through the tube the exact amount the picture hooks were worth.

“I’ve made two cents a hook on that deal,” Anderson smilingly said as he stepped over to where Henry was working. “Wasn’t she slow! A fellow can tell every time when a customer can be pulled. They’re worth keeping an eye open for, too! It’s a great trick.”

“But it’s dishonest,” replied Henry quickly, as he bent over to sort a box of loose hinges.

“I don’t see how that is,” returned Anderson, hotly. “I told her how much she’d have to pay for the hooks, and she paid it: she didn’t have to. And the firm lost nothing; they got their price—exactly what the goods were marked.”

“True, but you took twelve cents that didn’t belong to you,” persisted Henry.

“From whom?”

“The woman,” answered Henry. “And I call that—”

“Well, I don’t look at it in that light,” said Anderson as he began to whistle.

Again, before Mr. Henderson’s return from his trip East, which kept him away longer than he had planned when leaving home, Henry Mandle detected Anderson putting a certain amount from a sale in his own pocket, having charged the customer enough to do this and at the same time turn in to the cashier the amount asked by the firm for the articles sold.

“A fellow’s got to have some little extras,” said Anderson carelessly, as he saw that Henry had seen the transaction. “That man wanted those brads bad enough to pay twice the price I asked him. He said he couldn’t find what he wanted in any other store in town, and he’d been to five. Henderson and Company hasn’t lost anything, not a cent.”

“Well—”

“O come off, now,” interrupted Anderson. “Keep your preaching for somebody else, somebody who needs it. Besides, you aren’t above making an honest penny for yourself when you have a good opportunity.”

“An honest one, no!” exclaimed Henry, emphatically. “But the pennies you’ve just put in your pocket were not honestly made.”

“That’s your view of it, not mine!”

“But it’s the right one,” maintained Henry, “and sometime you’ll realize it.”

Neither Henry Mandle nor Fisher Anderson had ever seen Mr. Henderson, head of the firm by which they had been employed.

Several days later a stranger came into the store. Henry was out at the time, having been sent by Mr. Robinson to take a small package to the express office.

“I wonder if you have any screws—the kind I want?” asked the would-be purchaser of Anderson, who happened to be alone just then in that part of the store.

“Guess I can fix you out all right,” replied Anderson briskly. “We have this kind,” and he showed the man the best-grade screws in stock. “Are these what you’re looking for?” he asked as the customer hesitated.

“Haven’t you any others?”

“Yes, but they come higher,” and as Anderson looked over the stranger before him, he thought he recognized in him a man whom he could “pull.”

“Let me look at them.”

Anderson went over to a side drawer and took out a handful of Mason and Price screws.

“These are an excellent quality which we carry only for our more particular customers. How do these strike you?”

“I—I guess they will do. You are sure they are of the highest quality?” asked the man, hesitatingly. “They’re of the very best grade?”

“Sure! They are A1—the very best screw made. How many would you like?”

Very shortly Anderson handed the stranger his purchase.

“Come again!”

The man with the screws lingered in another part of the store, and he noticed that Anderson didn’t turn over to the cashier the money he had just received.

“This is clear gain,” Anderson said to himself with a pleased smile. “I fooled him good! All I can sell of those worthless screws I can put in my own pocket. Funny, though, that old fellow couldn’t tell the difference between a poor screw and those of a really high grade. But so much the better for me; I’ve nothing to lose!”

The next afternoon, Anderson was sent to King and Marston’s for a dozen small pulleys. While he was gone, a man entered the store and went directly over to where Henry was standing.

“Can you match this grade of screws—same length and size of wire?” he asked.

Henry took the screw the man handed him and examined it carefully.

“Yes, we can match it,” he said, “but it’s a very poor grade of screw. We do carry the same size in a much better article. In fact, I wouldn’t sell you the inferior grade. For, to be honest, you couldn’t use them.”

“But—”

“You don’t want them at any price,” interrupted Henry. “Here’s the kind you want,” showing the high-grade screw.

“Yet if I should take the others on my own responsibility?”

“You’d be dissatisfied with them, and blame us for selling such things,” was Henry’s reply. “No, I wouldn’t sell you a dishonest screw—for that’s what I call them, those of the Mason and Price brand.”

“Very well, I’ll take the other kind,” and the stranger watched Henry critically as the boy did up the amount of purchase.

“One moment, please,” as the man turned to leave the store. “There’s a quarter in change coming to you.”

“So there is. How forgetful old fellows like me become! Thank you.”

A moment before Anderson had come in. “You’re a—-say, why didn’t you pocket that quarter? He’d never have known. Catch me letting a thing like that slip!”

“It wasn’t mine,” replied Henry. “I don’t do business that way.”

The next morning, shortly after the boys reached the store, Mr. Robinson told them that Mr. Henderson wished to see them in his office.

“I wonder what he—”

“That’s easy,” interrupted Anderson. “He’s going to tell us that we’re permanently engaged. And I tell you, man, I’m glad. It’s a great place to work. It’s easy, and there’s good money in it; and best of all, they treat a fellow well.”

“Where have I seen him before?” thought Henry as he stood before Mr. Henderson in the comfortably furnished private office.

“I—I wonder if—” Anderson was also trying to recollect where he’d seen the head of the firm before. Surely his face was familiar—amazingly so.

“Sit down,” said Mr. Henderson, as he pointed to two seats opposite his desk. “I have sent for you to say that we have come to the conclusion that for the present we can only use one new clerk.”

Henry Mandle’s heart began to sink. It was such a splendid place to work, and he had tried so hard to do his best.

“Yesterday,” continued Mr. Henderson, “and the day before, I went into the store to buy some screws, and I got two kinds. Those I got the first day were worthless. However, I was pressed to take them, told they were the best quality the store offered.” Anderson’s face flushed painfully. “Then, as I noticed, the money received for the sale didn’t reach the cashier’s desk.” Henry Mandle looked up questioningly. “The second purchase I made yesterday,” Mr. Henderson continued, the expression on his face noncommittal, “and it was exactly as it was represented. Those words on the wall yonder, ‘Honesty opens the doors to a successful career. Dishonesty closes them,’ ever since my grandfather’s time have been the motto of the firm of Henderson and Company.

“That is all. I will make no further reference to the sale of the screws. Mandle, you may go back to your work.”